Insignificant Decisions
by Tallara
Summary: Ten year old Harry Potter makes an insignificant decision that changes a lot of other insignificant things, which eventually changes very significant things. Because no matter what, Harry Potter never manages to do things by half measures. (AU from Hogwarts letter onwards, Diary!Tom, preslash/gen)
1. Prologue

Insignificant Decisions

_(Quote from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone)_

_"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper._

_"Make Harry get it."_

_"Get the mail, Harry."_

_"Make Dudley get it."_

_"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."_

_Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Harry. Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives - he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:_

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

_The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H._

_"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke. _

Harry drowned his relatives' voices out as he stared at his name formally written on the front of the letter in utter amazement. His letter. Who on earth would send him a letter? He turned it over to open and hesitated. He felt cold as he remembered his relative's punishment after the snake incident just before the summer holidays. He didn't want to go back to the cupboard, he had only just gotten out again. He would certainly get in trouble for getting a strange letter if they saw it. Especially a strange letter that knew what room he lived in. Instead of opening it, he slipped it in his pocket.

Harry went back to the kitchen. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk-."

Taking a deep breath he walked over to his spot at the table. The letter could wait until after chores.

* * *

Harry didn't think he had ever gotten his chores done so quickly. He usually lingered outside on the garden chores, but today he rushed through everything. Which had been rather stupid of him as to counter this, Aunt Petunia had given him more chores for the rest of the afternoon inside. Thinking about the mysterious letter kept him distracted at least.

An agonisingly long dinner later, he practically lept into his cupboard. Having run out of patience he ripped open the letter hoping nobody would interrupt him before bed. He read the letter.

He blinked. He read the letter again.

Harry finished the letter for the second time, removed his glasses, cleaned them on his old baggy shirt, put them back on and read the letter again.

The contents of the letter remained the same on his third, fourth and fifth rereads of the letter.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

What did it mean? Witchcraft and wizardry? Hogwarts? Warlocks? Owls? Was Dudley playing a cruel trick on him again because he was going to Stonewall? But Dudley couldn't have pulled a prank like this off. He didn't have the patience. He read the uniform, course books and equipment list not getting less confused but far more so. His eyes focused in on words such as dragons, magic and broomsticks.

If this was a prank, it was the most elaborate one he had ever encountered. Harry Potter sat utterly confused and feeling very alone in his cupboard under the stairs. He didn't sleep at all well that night.

* * *

On Tuesday morning Harry woke up to his aunt banging on his door like any other morning. He felt like he had managed to get ten minutes rest the entire night. He looked across his cupboard at the letter lying on his shelf, his thoughts just as muddled as the night before. What was happening? Was this some kind of practical joke? Was it real? What should he do?

If life with the Dursleys had taught him one thing, it was to not ask questions. You never asked questions, you either found answers or you waited for them. And so Harry decided to wait for the other shoe to drop. If it was Dudley, the most likely option, then he would not be able to wait long before revealing himself. If it wasn't Dudley… then magic?

But magic did _not_ exist.

Well, Dudley or anything else, he would deal with it then.

The other shoe conveniently happened to drop, with a rather loud thud, just days later.

* * *

Harry got up on Monday morning absentmindedly, with little attention given to the world around him. Until, he was yet again standing at the door with mail in hand, staring at a letter with bold green ink, declaring;

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

He excused himself to the toilet after handing Uncle Vernon the bills. He tore the letter out of its envelope

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Due to a lack of response to the previous letter it has come to my attention that your family may not be able to supply an owl to respond to this letter with. Please feel free to send a response by muggle post to 124 Grey Street, Hogsmeade._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

Harry blinked. Muggle post? He knew what post was, but _muggle_ post? The street address seemed authentic. His heart beat a little faster. What if this was real, no matter the weird circumstances was he being accepted into a school? Maybe one his parents had put him in at birth. Just this once, he would hope for a miracle.

Harry didn't return to breakfast and once inside his cupboard pulled out a pen and paper. With more attention than he had ever given to his handwriting before, he carefully put his pen to the paper.

_Dear Deputy Headmistress,_

* * *

Minerva McGonagall spent all of Thursday sorting through her replies to the acceptance letters, with all the generic responses accounted for, at about 6 o'clock she came across a letter sent by one Harry J. Potter and was completely stumped.

_Dear Deputy Headmistress,_

_I don't want to sound rude, but I believe you may have sent this letter to the wrong person. I cannot recall applying for this school although I suppose my parents could have enrolled me at birth. If this is the case would you be able to clarify things for me?_

_Regards, Harry J. Potter_

What on earth? Harry Potter, the _Boy-Who-Lived_, didn't know about Hogwarts. After sitting quietly in her study until the sky fell dark Minerva McGonagall had reached a few possible conclusions, and was displeased with absolutely all of them.

Harry Potter fell asleep on Thursday night wondering if he would ever receive a reply to his letter or if it was his last childish wish for a different life, completely unaware that in Scotland a very displeased Minerva McGonagall was organising a day trip to Surrey.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to Whispers in the Dawn for beta-reading my never ending sentences and muddled grammar.

So this plotline (has many similar to it) and has been done before. Lots of times in fact. I will not live up to the brilliant other stories out there but I am going to use this as a chance to practice my writing. Not sure what I'm doing, but we will see what happens. Hopefully I will know what I'm doing soon. (Key word: hopefully)

This story is also going to take a while getting off the ground. But it will speed up. Thanks for reading! :)

Tallara


	2. Chapter 1

Friday morning found Harry Potter cursing his 'incompetence' at boiling eggs to his uncle's standards. He could bake macarons and souffles nonetheless simply boiling an egg was never performed satisfactorily, according to Uncle Vernon.

Then again, it seemed to be a trend. Whenever Uncle Vernon was displeased with work, he asked for boiled eggs in the morning and then proceeded to yell at Harry over how terrible he was at cooking and a waste of space in general until Aunt Petunia would intervene as her husband _really must_ get ready for work or he would be late. Harry had always been perceptive when he needed to be.

Due to this observant nature, Harry had been cautiously sneaking glances at a cat on the pavement across the road as he picked weeds. It had been there for at least two hours and Harry wasn't sure if he was just going insane from mind-numbing chores, but the cat was _watching_ him. But cats did not watch people pick weeds for two hours. _Nobody_ lucid would watch weed picking for two hours. Gardening chores were done hurriedly, due to the disconcerting cat, green eyes cast a reluctant glance outside as he trudged indoors to clean his hands before preparing lunch.

He had just started to bring out the utensils as the doorbell rang. On a Friday morning. That was strange. Aunt Petunia ran flustered to the door from where she had been rearranging the living room. Harry peaked round the corner to see the door open on a stern looking woman dressed in some very irregular summer attire composed of black robes.

Wait. Robes had been on the required clothing list for the school letter he had received. Harry hardly dared to breathe as he stood stunned, waiting for Aunt Petunia to do something. But she seemed equally stunned by her rigid posture. The woman's eyes drifted over Aunt Petunia and noticed Harry. Aunt Petunia saw her gaze and traced it back to Harry. His Aunt's face turned as white as a sheet.

The woman at the door cleared her throat "Good Morning, Mrs Dursley and Mr Potter, I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwa-"

Aunt Petunia slammed the door of Number Four, Privet Drive shut in the stern lady's face, locked it, turned around to lean on it and braced her hands on either side as if to stop the door been pushed open.

"Go to your room now." She hissed at him.

Harry wanted to do anything else. He stared back at his Aunt not quite certain this was _actually_ happening. He had certainly recognized the woman's name.

There was a knock on the door and the doorbell rang twice.

"Now!" Aunt Petunia yelled furiously and Harry took a step back, years of instincts screaming at him to hide.

Before he could choose flight over fight, fighting never worked, the front door disappeared. Harry's eyes grew very wide as he stared out past where his frontdoor should have been into the eyes of the woman- Ms McGonagall.

The door had vanished just like the glass covering the boa constrictor had disappeared little over a month ago.

All the conclusions Harry had drawn from the mysterious letter over the past two weeks were narrowed down into one. Past his disbelief and years of being told magic was not real, the memories of being hurt and hungry for doing freakish things re-surged and he connected the dots. His hair that never stayed short, the snake, vanishing onto the school roof.

Every atom inside him thrummed with the knowledge, joyous. Magic was real. He could nearly burst from how happy he was. He wasn't a freak, there were people like him, like the professor, a school like him. Harry's thoughts flew fast and happily. He wasn't alone.

Then Harry felt frigid.

Uncle Venon and Aunt Petunia had always took a lot of pleasure, an irregular delight, in telling him magic wasn't real.

He turned to look up past her long proud neck, into her beady eyes. "You knew."

Aunt Petunia looked furious and opened her mouth to respond, but properly looked at him, perhaps for the first time in years and whatever she saw on his face, caused her to close her mouth and remain silent.

Ms McGonagall hid it rather well but the atmosphere was rather chilly and she looked a bit put off. She cleared her throat. Harry adverted his eyes away from his aunts, bitterness festering deep.

"As I was saying beforehand, I am Ms McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, I have come about Mr Potter's placement in our school. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Potter." She nodded at him. He just stared at her, then back at Aunt Petunia.

* * *

Aunt Petunia hadn't put up much of a fight after Professor McGonagall had turned a lamp into a toad and told his aunt in no uncertain terms that she could do the same to her.

Harry was numb as they sat in the living room. Torn between the euphoric feeling of understanding himself, and the devastating knowledge that he was the last one in the room to know about himself. He stared out the window wondering why he even felt betrayed by his family anymore.

The professor asked him to bring out his letter which he did, to see the professor turn over the envelope and see it addressed to the cupboard under the stairs. He didn't even have the energy to be embarrassed. They hadn't gotten around to explaining much of anything for a while thanks to the discussion that the envelope had sparked.

The Professor looked rather concerned at his distant attitude, so to not disappoint her, he acted like he had for many years at school. He smiled at her politely just like he had at his teachers at school while the cuts and bruises from 'Harry Hunting' were rubbing against his chair in class.

After assuring her he was alright, he finally distracted himself from the thoughts of his relatives knowingly concealing that he had magic, brining himself to ask the Professor hopefully "So the acceptance letter really was for me?"

She smiled, a bit weakly "Yes Mister Potter, I do hope I can count this visit as a acceptance letter?"

* * *

That afternoon, after talking for many hours with the Professor he was sent to Dudley's second bedroom and lay on the bed, listening to the yelling in the kitchen as Uncle Vernon got home from an ordinary day at work to find his normal life tipped upside down and Dudley threw a tantrum over his second room being used by the freak. There was no dinner delivered, but Harry's stomach didn't apparently notice, too well disciplined by his childhood.

Harry stared at the ceiling, covered by glow-in-the-dark stars which Dudley had thought too nerdy to put in his main bedroom, thinking about everything he had learned. There had been brilliant things he had learned, like about Hogwarts and magical people. Then there had been moments as his aunt stared out the window and Harry found out his parents had been murdered and his aunt had known all along.

He had magic. His parents had magic, _had been_ magic. The car accident was a lie and his parents had been killed by a serial killer who had started a war. He was apparently famous for getting rid of the said all powerful serial killer. He was going to leave the Dursleys who were apparently muggles. Perhaps for good, if Professor McGonagall talked to the headmaster like she said she would. Harry couldn't bring himself to be too hopeful on that front, dreams were made to be trampled.

There was a Ministry of Magic. There were magical creatures. They had banks run by goblins. There was a school for people like him. He could make_ friends_.

Harry's mind spun in a loop while elation rose and fell like a yo-yo. Sleep was hard to find on Friday night.

* * *

Professor McGonagall was furious as she apparated out of Surrey. How dare those muggles- she hissed. She had an appointment with the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

* * *

Harry kept his head down and did his chores over the next few days in silence. The professor would be back on Tuesday to go shopping with him for school supplies. The sheer simplicity of the chores was actually comforting. There was a tension in the household, an unspoken agreement that the visit had never occurred.

There had been a very loudly spoken agreement, however, that the freakishness was to be kept away from the house, in return for a bedroom and less chores. Particularly less chores inside the house where his relatives had to look at him. A brilliant arrangement, for all parties concerned.

Tuesday morning came slowly as Harry watched the sun rise. He had woken up before five and hadn't been able to fall back asleep. The last time Harry had been a tenth this excited was when he was able to go to the zoo for Dudley's birthday. He was going to London- for the first time, and to buy wizard stuff! When he spotted Professor McGonagall hours later, further down Privet Drive, walking towards number 4, she looked as composed as last time but Harry couldn't help but smile brightly and run out of the house when he saw her, nearly tripping over his worn and too large sneakers, to meet her on the pavement.

"Good morning Mr Potter, you look fresh and ready to do some school shopping."

"Can't wait to go Professor. Actually- where are we actually going again?"

The Professor smiled. "Diagon Alley, it's the main shopping centre in wizarding London."

After nearly vomiting from a rather abrupt mode of transport called apparation which involved disappearing from one spot and appearing somewhere completely different, reminding him of the school roof incident, they were in the middle of London. The professor lead them past a cinema, a bookstore and restaurants before coming to a stop at a tiny pub which Harry wouldn't have noticed if the Professor hadn't stopped right next to it. People shoved past in a rush to get to their destination and nobody seemed to notice there was a shabby looking pub in the middle of the street.

Harry looked at the Professor curiously. "Magic?"

She seemed amused "Yes Mr Potter, magic is one answer, this happens to be rather complicated magic, but I suppose most of what we see today will be covered at a basic level by saying magic."

Harry couldn't wait.

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron had been quite awkward, to say the least. After shaking far too many hands and people saying it was an honour to meet him (while all he wanted to do was disappear), the Professor had briskly walked them over to a wall behind the shop, done some more really cool magic to turn the wall into an archway and briskly walked them to the nearest shop that sold clothing and bought him a hat. "My apologies Mr Potter, I should have realised nobody would have any tact."

Harry vaguely responded but he was a bit preoccupied staring at the Alley around him. He was in a bit of a daze over the next few minutes as they walked down the alley. There were broomsticks and owls and people complaining over the price of salamander eggs. Harry decided he really was going to need a long time to take this all in. Before he had a chance to start they arrived at a large white building with goblins dressed in robes standing by the entrance.

"Welcome to Gringotts." Harry didn't feel very welcomed as they walked up to the main doors with a riddle inscribed on it about nasty things happening to anyone idiotic enough to steal from the bank. Don't steal from Goblins. Message received.

* * *

There was a lot of coins. Harry stared some more. To think, if the Dursleys had known that this was lying beneath London belonging to him- and it may just be to Harry, but there was a lot of coins lying there. According to the professor he would get _another_ vault full of coins when he reached seventeen, this was 'just' a trust vault.

The professor helped explain to him how much would be needed for the term and he took a lot more than that but the Professor didn't question his actions which he was grateful for.

* * *

His mind ran similarly to his Professor's and although the clothing store was closest, they moved first to the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. When he had first met the Professor the week beforehand she had spoken all about the books which would introduce him to practically everything. Don't ask questions was the number one rule in the Dursley household. Due to this, he had a habit he knew he should probably break, but he was much happier to take the extra time to find answers to his questions in a book, rather than ask an adult anything.

He didn't know where to begin but Professor McGonagall helped him find two books most muggleborns bought which covered topics such as how to use a quill, what the floo was (he still didn't know, but hopefully he would soon) and how to grip a wand. Not only that but she was helpful by finding a recent Wizarding European History book so he would know why everyone wanted to shake his hand and a book called 'Hogwarts, a History' which talked about the school he was going to.

Harry was never really been able to have his own books before, only borrowing carefully from the school library when Dudley wasn't paying attention, so being shown around the shop by McGonagall he wished he could buy half the books there so he would never run out of new magic to learn. As the professor looked in a different section of the store she left Harry to go find the prerequisite Hogwarts books.

As the professor looked in a different section of the store she left Harry to go find the prerequisite Hogwarts books. He found the right section of the store and found a tall intimidating man bowing down over the first year bookshelf he was looking for. The man already had the first year books in a basket but did not appear to looking at the bookshelf or books anymore, but rather watching the next row through the gap in shelves. Harry looked through curiously to see a man with bright red hair examining a book in the next row. The red-haired man in the next row left and the intimidating man stood up straight with the book basket, turned, and walked right into Harry.

A pale face stared down at him in surprise as Harry tumbled to the ground losing his hat and basket of books in the process. He scrambled up onto his feet again. He looked up at the man but the man's eyes was very focused on his forehead. His scar was showing. Harry quickly grabbed his hat off the ground and placed it back on his head firmly.

The man finally looked down from his forehead and regained his voice "My apologies, I was careless while looking for a book." the man smoothly explained.

He didn't comment on his scar after staring at it for so long? Harry shifted uncomfortably under the man's piercing gaze.

"I'm sorry for not being a bit louder." The man continued to stare at him passively for a moment before shaking his head and saying, "I am at fault." and bowing down to help collect Harry's books back into his basket. Harry was surprised to say the least, as the man passed him the basket.

"Thank you." He said politely to the man, but the man had already begun to move away- not walking but more like _gliding_ away.

Harry shook his head in bewilderment at the strange man before turning back to the bookshelf to pick up 'The Standard Book of Spells'.

* * *

The day continued to pass in a blur as he got clothing, parchment, a cauldron and more. Professor McGonagall was a fountain of useful information, unsurprising, as it turned out as the deputy headmistress, she was in charge of the majority of house visits to non-wizarding families. He learnt about the school houses, a sport called Quidditch which sounded dangerous but fun, the classes he would be taking, ghosts and most importantly, that he better pay full attention in Transfiguration.

The highlight had been when the Professor gave him his first ever birthday present. He had been waiting outside a shop labelled Eeylops Owl Emporium for her to do some business when she returned with a large cage.

"I wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday earlier, but I wanted to wait until I could find you the appropriate gift. Happy Birthday Mr Potter." The Professor said as she passed over a cage with a beautiful snowy white owl inside over to him.

Harry had been first flummoxed until he remembered it was 31st of July and then stammered his thanks like a broken-down record for the next ten minutes.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Harry was barely keeping himself from jumping up and down with nervous energy. They walked in to find nobody in sight as the doorbell rang.

Professor McGonagall sighed "I never understand why you must be so dramatic Mr Ollivander."

"It's good to keep people on their toes, Ms McGonagall." A soft voice said out of nowhere and Harry nearly jumped ten feet in the air as an old man was suddenly right in front of him. "Good afternoon."

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. The man proceeded to tell Harry about his parents' wands which impressed Harry a bit just from how good his memory was. But he didn't appreciate the lack of blinking or the creepy stare at all.

Harry began trying wands. And trying. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher as Professor McGonagall watched on in what seemed to be surprise, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

Minerva could not recall ever seeing anyone try so many wands.

Then Harry found the one, his hand closed around the wand's handle the tingling warmth in his fingers ran through his body and he finally had proof that he was a real wizard as fireworks shot from the tip of the wand. He wasn't alone.

He would look back on that moment over the years, a small eleven year old boy believing he had found a home through a magical wooden stick and be both amused and sad at his younger self and his naive assumptions.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to Whispers in the Dawn for beta-reading my never ending sentences and muddled grammar.

I do admit to skipping over and brushing by some points in this chapter others would say are key. Particularly such as Harry finding out about his parents. I tried to write the scene 3 different times. But I confess I have read the "you're a wizard Harry, your parents were murdered" scene far too many times in many different ways.

So now we have reached the a major difference to the original plotline and I am happy to announce that this entire story was sparked around one line Draco says to Harry when they first meet: "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," And I wondered what could happen if Harry had met a different Malfoy in the bookstore instead of the child in the clothing shop.

Many thanks to all the favourites, follows and most importantly the reviewers. I read every review at least 3 times and cannot thank you enough. ^^

Tallara


	3. Chapter 2

Professor McGonagall had gone to get them some ice cream to try and cheer him a bit after Mr Ollivander had decided to tell Harry about the origins of his wand. So apparently, wands had siblings. His wand had a sibling wand which had been instrumental in the murder of his parents. Harry stared dully down at his new holly and phoenix feather wand, supposing there was some sort of irony in all of that. Harry rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and firmly decided not to think about it anymore. For now at least.

While he was waiting for the professor he reached into his shopping bag full of books he had bought at Flourish and Blotts. He was really excited to begin learning and it would be a useful distraction. Perhaps he should begin with the book on Hogwarts.

He peered down into the bag, trying to remember what the cover of 'Hogwarts a History' looked like when he saw a small black leather bound book amongst his school books. What on earth? He picked it up and peered at it, it was a diary. At first he was worried that he had stolen somebody's diary by accident but it was a 50 year old diary judging by the faded year on the cover. Curiously he opened it to find he could just make out the name 'T. M. Riddle in smudged ink on the first page. Had it accidentally fallen off a shelf into his bag at the bookstore? He flipped through the pages to find it completely blank. Not quite sure what to make of it, Harry looked up to spot Professor McGonagall walking back over carrying ice cream. Harry quickly decided to shove the book back in the bag. The professor seemed to be the one of the few adults to ever like him and he didn't want to discourage her by thinking he had stolen a diary.

She handed him a vanilla ice cream and for a few minutes he was taken by the novelty of watching the rather stern professor eat an ice cream. Over the years at the Dursleys Harry had become quite adapt at reading moods and could see she seemed rather restless about something. He wondered what it was but did not need to wonder for long as the professor seemed to gather the courage she needed.

"I confess I have been trying to find a way to broach a conversation all day Mr Potter, but I could not find the right time,"

"A conversation about what Professor?" He was very interested now.

She looked at him in the eye as she continued "About your living conditions with the Dursleys. You were a bit distracted at the time, but I did suggest removing you completely from their care when I visited last week."

Harry instantly was cautious "What about it?"

She sighed "I inquired with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, if you don't recall, about removing you from their care after explaining their frankly appalling treatment," Harry didn't breathe "but he was adamant that you should remain with your last living relatives."

No. Harry tried desperately to cover his emotions and speak normally. "Why?" By the look the professor gave him, he knew he had not been as subtle in hiding his emotions as he had first hoped to.

"Professor Dumbledore is a very wise wizard and usually makes very good decisions. I cannot say what possessed him to think this one is a good idea, however I do not think I can change his mind." She looked at him, features softening

"But I will continue to try."

Harry's mind whirled as he looked down at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. Why had the headmaster said he should stay with people who thought he was a freak and didn't give him food for doing magic? Wasn't he supposed to help students? He swallowed the words down. He should stop being surprised or angered by adults. To be honest with himself he had thought he stopped being surprised by adults after he tried to speak with the school counsellor in second grade. The punishment from the Dursleys after that incident had been particularly nasty. Perhaps he had thought magical adults would be different. Professor McGonagall must be an exception. He remembered to look up at the professor but she had a pinched look that told him he had taken too long to respond.

Harry smiled weakly "Thank you for trying professor."

She didn't look at all pleased if the downturn of her mouth was anything to go by. "I may not be able to remove you from them Mr Potter, but I will make sure they see the consequences if they step out of line for the rest of your month with them. If they step out of line, you have means to contact me directly now."

His eleventh birthday had already been overall the most brilliant day ever, but standing in the kitchen, desperately trying not to laugh as Professor McGonagall turned every item of furniture in 4 Privet Drive's living room into croaking toads of varying colours had made it immensely more memorable.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy was poised, refined and could handle the most irritating of people. These people included politicians, gold diggers, the weak and she could manage them all without a single crack in her impressive pureblood façade.

However in the confines of her own home, without any guests, if something irritated her she would not hesitate to let her irritation be known. This time it was something of great irritation, as her husband's tense pacing continued.

Narcissa watched the large golden clock above the fireplace and waited 5 additional minutes to assure herself she really must intervene before her husband wore an indent into the marble floors. Lucius Malfoy continued pacing back and forth through the elegant library.

Narcissa sighed, picked herself gracefully up off the lounge, noted her page number and placed her book on the mahogany fireplace mantel. Draco was happily reading through his new potions book in his room, wanting above all else to impress his godfather the second he arrived in potions and so Narcissa was certain he would not interrupt.

She went up and stood directly in the middle of the path her husband had been taking and waited for him to walk down the length of their sizable library and back to where she was waiting. She grasped his hands firmly.

"What in Merlin's name has you so agitated Lucius?"

Lucius looked at her for a moment, assessing her, then sighed dropping his eyes down to their entwined hands. "I fear I have made a grave mistake."

"In school shopping?" Narcissa did not bother to hide her incredulous tone.

Lucius considered telling her for a brief moment but his fear of his old master held his tongue even now. He just sighed again and wondered what his rushed actions may have cost him and his family in the future.

* * *

Harry finished 'European History of Magic, the Last Century (Ed 5)' just after midnight with a yawn, placing it back down on a corner of Dudley's spare desk. It was just two days after his trip to London with Professor McGonagall but he had promised himself he would understand the world he was entering before he began Hogwarts. He also knew himself rather well and therefore knew that he should read the less practical books first because he was bound to find the others much more interesting. Next on his list were the two books aimed at muggleborns but he had picked up European history first as he wanted to understand the events which had made him end up at the Dursleys.

'European History of Magic, the Last Century' had all been a lot to process thus leading to Harry reading every chapter twice before moving on. Most of it was completely irrelevant to the last war that ended with his lightning shaped scar but

Harry still found it fascinating. He had never been one interested in history in general, but it was still incredible, even to him, that underneath the devastating muggle World War 2 a completely different global war had been waged between wizards and witches. At least he now understood why Albus Dumbledore was so well known and respected, after the famous duel with Grindelwald to end the war in 1945, although he still wasn't the slightest bit less furious with the Headmaster's actions and interference in his own life.

After reading the section relevant to him on the last war to tear through the British Isles, he was deeply confused. Why had Voldemort gone out of his way to kill a toddler? Harry wasn't sure why that stood out to him, but he was very confused as to why a powerful deadly person that people where so scared of that they would not even utter his name would go out of his way to kill his family. The Potters had not been mentioned once in the entire book before Voldemort's miraculous fall to toddler Harry Potter (he still wasn't sold on defeating an all-powerful dark lord). Why had they been sought out?

Harry rubbed his scar with the palm one hand and his tired eyes with another. Harry supposed in the end, it didn't really matter, because as it stood, Voldemort apparently wasn't a problem anymore. His situation at the Dursleys was however, so Albus Dumbledore was a problem. Professor McGonagall had given him a temporary solution via colourful toads but Harry wasn't stupid enough to think it would work to keep his relatives at bay for more than the rest of this holiday.

Harry began to panic as he stared down at his desk. He had so much to learn and he frankly had no idea how he would be able to do it all before term started. Talking to Professor McGonagall had left him feeling hyper-aware of how very behind he was of all the non muggleborns students who had probably been practicing magic since they started learning maths. Magic problems were also actually the least of his problems, as he had to deal with his relatives as well. Not only those issues but Harry had been ignoring his apparent fame very well by shoving the issue away where he didn't have to think about it.

Harry calmed his breathing into a regular pattern. He had to be practical, he thought, address one problem at a time.

Looking around the desk for parchment he spotted the diary he had found on top of his book purchases. It would be perfect to write in and he felt a little guilty when opening it up to use, but it was a waste of paper otherwise. Fumbling to get the quill in hand – he would need to practice his handwriting with the help of his muggleborn guide books – he wrote carefully but still nearly illegibly on the front page.

_Things to do before I start Hogwarts_

_1\. Make sure the Dursleys never find out I cannot do magic outside school_

He was about to write second thing to do- only to stop, as before his eyes, everything he had written vanished.

Harry stared down at the diary which appeared to have just swallowed his words. He continued to stare until after a few seconds had passed, elegant, slanted words began appearing that he had certainly not written.

_Hello, sorry for interrupting, but who are you and how did you come by my diary?_

So Harry had somehow accidentally happened across some sort of magical diary which could talk to you. Whoops. What could he say? Judging by how his writing had disappeared, the diary might have actually had a previous owner and Harry felt guilty.

_I am sorry I did not realise this was somebody's magical diary. I found it in my books. Is there any way I can return this_ _to someone? I have an owl to return it with. I'm very sorry._

The diary replied instantly.

_No forgive me. It has been a long time since anyone has written to me and I was surprised. It is lovely to have_ _someone writing to me again. Who are you?_

Well that was a relief. Harry messily scrawled in response,

_Harry Potter. Are you sure? Who are you?_

_My name is Tom Riddle, call me Tom if you like. I'm just a diary that you can talk with, I got my name from my first_ _owner. Yes, I am quite sure that I don't mind you writing to me. It has been rather boring. I hate to criticise, but your handwriting is absolutely abysmal Harry_ _Potter._

Harry winced.

_This is my first time writing with a quill_

_First time ever? Are you a muggleborn?_

Harry clumsily dipped the quill in ink to respond, but hesitated, why should he tell a book about himself?

_Why do you want to know?_

The book seemed to hesitate in return.

_I must apologise again, I haven't talked to anyone in a long time. It has been very lonely. I just wanted to know more_ _about the first person to write to me._

Harry could relate.

_My parents were magical but they died. I have grown up with muggle relatives. I have some books to help teach me_ _how to use a quill but I was too busy reading other books._

_Would you like some help learning how you use a quill?_

_Why would you help me?_

_Because it's a good thing to do. I always enjoy assisting others._

_Nobody helps just because it's a good thing to do. There is always a reason._

Harry winced again. His anger at being kept with the Dursleys was surfacing. He was about to apologise to a magical inanimate object when said magical inanimate object finally responded.

_Forgive me, you are quite the sharp one. I would like to know a few things in return._

Harry's eyes widened. The diary seemed to be honest.

_What?_

_What is happening in the magical community? Where am I? What is the date? I fear I have been asleep for a long_ _time._

Harry once again put his hand down to respond before pausing. Asleep. Why had the diary been asleep? Maybe the diary had been asleep for a reason. Tom seemed nice enough, but so had the heroic Albus Dumbledore in his magical history book.

_Harry?_

_Why were you asleep?_

_My previous owner decided he had outgrown me._

_How did you end up in my school books then?_

_That is a question I would like to know the answer to as well, I assure you._

Harry stared down not at all sure what to think as exhaustion finally hit him.

_It's late and I'm tired and I won't get breakfast if I do not do my chores. Can I talk to you tomorrow?_

_Whenever you like. Sorry I did not inquire earlier, but is it alright if I call you Harry?_

Harry managed a little smile down at the diary. Perhaps having a diary to talk to would be good for him. Maybe Tom could even help him get ready for Hogwarts. He would have to know a bit about magic from his previous owner. Harry could ask in the morning.

_Sure. It was nice meeting you Tom._

_Sleep well Harry._

Harry attempted, and failed quite miserably to clean up the quill and ink. He vowed to learn how to write with a quill first thing in the morning before stumbling over and collapsing onto his bed.

* * *

AN: Many thanks to Whispers in the Dawn for beta-reading my never ending sentences and muddled grammar.

Once again thank you for the reviews! :)


	4. Chapter 3

A week after Harry first wrote into a blank diary, he still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found Tom. Tom had acted very… friendly for the first few days but seemed to realise Harry would actually talk to him more if he wasn't so... nice.

Tom had quickly became a lot more sarcastic and snarky, which Harry preferred, as it seemed considerably more genuine. If anything, Harry was just a bit concerned that the snarky attitude appeared to be rubbing off on him the more they wrote. The diary didn't talk much about himself, all he said was that his previous owner had been both a muggleborn and a Hogwarts student - so Tom knew practically everything and anything. Harry didn't press on the subject of his first owner, deciding he was probably still angry with his last owner for abandoning him. Tom was also an exceptional teacher, if not a little sharp if Harry didn't concentrate enough.

_I understand that herbs are boring, but if you do not cease scrawling stick figures in the corners of my pages and continue reading Magical Herbs and Fungi I will make you regret it tenfold. Also, press less firmly with your quill, you are wasting ink._

_Like that?_

_Better, tilt your hand a bit more._

_This? Please tell me this is the most boring of the school books?_

_That is exactly why I recommended reading it first. Would you like to go back to reading about how to hold a quill? Because I_ _will force you do just that if you do not pay more attention to your handwriting._

Harry was becoming confident that he would be on par with most students when he reached Hogwarts, if not a little behind on the practical application of magic since Professor McGonagall had reminded him before she left, magic was banned outside school in muggle areas.

"A pity as that is Mr Potter, remember I am only an owl away. It is good to exercise one's toad transfiguring skills on convenient furniture once in a while."

In return for Tom's help, Harry traded the date and what information he had received from his one book on recent magical history to Tom, who was oddly fascinated in history, for a diary and was very curious about Harry's own role in ending the last war and Voldemort.

_So according to your book, Voldemort's main goal was to eradicate muggles? Also why in Morgana's name would he try to kill a toddler?_

_That's what it says. It does seem a little silly, there are so many muggles and from what you said, there aren't many people with magic. No clue why he decided to try kill my family. They aren't even mentioned apart from that._

_It is said that you, as a toddler, killed a Dark Lord? While only receiving a scar?_

After they had bonded over an apparent mutual dislike of Albus Dumbledore, Harry had begun telling him things he had never told anyone. It was brilliant having somebody to talk to who couldn't tell anyone his secrets. It had been hard to hide his situation with his relatives, after all, the first encounter they had ever shared was Harry disclosing he had to keep the fact he couldn't do magic a secret. Tom didn't have many suggestions on how to prevent them finding out, but a listening ear helped immensely.

* * *

The first time Tom spoke properly about his previous owner was while Harry was reading 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them', nearly two weeks after Harry first wrote to him.

Harry had reached the letter B in a chapter titled 'An A-Z of Fantastic Beasts' when he came across the most fascinating creature yet. Harry admitted that since talking to a snake, he had been curious about them, so when he got to

Basilisks – which he summarised to himself as bloody terrifying giant snakes who only had to look at you to kill you – he was more captivated than terrified as he knew he should be.

_Although it is relatively easy to create them, the ban is rarely transgressed because Basilisks are extremely dangerous and can only be controlled by Parselmouths._

Harry frowned, parselmouth? He reached over for the diary on the other side of the desk. Whenever he didn't understand a topic he turned to Tom.

_Hi Tom, I'm still reading the book on beasts but I have a question._

_I cannot say I am as well versed in the subject as I would like but what is your question?_

_What is a parselmouth?_

The diary didn't respond, which mean one of three things. Harry had either caught Tom by surprise, irritated him or said something amusing.

_Sorry if I irritated you. I was just reading about Basilisks._

_Not a problem. I am just a bit surprised that caught your attention. Parselmouths are people who can talk to snakes._

Harry responded slowly, writing slowly in his disbelief.

_So not all wizards can talk to snakes or other animals?_

_Of-have you talked to a snake?_

Harry pondered how to explain himself.

_I may have possibly, sort of, set a boa constrictor lose in a zoo because he wanted to go to Brazil._

The diary was silent and Harry fidgeted nervously while he waited for over a minute before Tom finally responded.

_I am not even going to begin on your previous statement, however you should know it is not a common talent. You should keep it hidden. Most wizards and witches tend to see it as an evil talent._

_Why?_

_The first thing to understand about humans Harry, is that they fear what they cannot understand. Your relatives are a stellar example of this, even muggles in general are also a good example of this._

_I agree about my relatives but Tom they are just one family._

_How well versed are you on World War 2?_

_I know the basics although history never really interested me._

_My previous owner experienced it all Harry. The rations, the fear and the panic. My first owner was just out of school when the first atomic bomb hit Japan. If you can remember one piece of advice from me, it would be to never_ _underestimate the power of muggles when they fear something._

* * *

It was the end of the summer holidays. Two days before he left for Hogwarts straight after lunch, Harry rushed upstairs to talk with Tom. He had finished his last unread book 'Hogwarts, a History' earlier in the day while reading outside in the sunshine and was full of questions about the houses, as it occurred to him he would be sorted into one of them very soon.

He dashed over to the desk and got a disapproving hoot from Hedwig who had been sleeping in her cage. After an apology Harry finally opened the diary and quickly (but neatly otherwise Tom wouldn't respond) wrote.

_What house do you think I'll be in? Just finished Hogwarts a History._

_Hello to you as well. _

Tom took a while to respond to his question. _I honestly cannot say, you seem to have the traits for more than one of the houses. Do you remember from the book what the main traits were?_

_I think so._

_List them. I'll expand on what the book does not say._

An exasperating part of Tom was that he never, ever gave answers until he was sure you had thought through a problem on your own.

_Gryffindor values bravery, daring, nerve, and chivalri._

_Good start but chivalry is spelt with a y. Are you five?_

_Would you not interrupt? I'm 11. I make mistakes. Hufflepuff values hard work, paience, loyalty, and fair play. Ravenclaw values are intelligence, knowledge, and wit. Slythiren values ambition, cuning and resourcefulness._

_Patience, Slytherin, cunning. Now before I begin, which one of these do you think fits you?_

Tom asked the question Harry had been pondering all morning.

_I think I have traits of more than one._

_Go on._

_Well I can be patient, I like hard work and I like fair play. So Hufflepuff sounds nice. While I am not sure how you measure intelligence I want more knowledge, so Ravenclaw could be useful. I think I am resourceful so perhaps Slytherin?_

_No traits from Gryffindor?_

_I don't think I am any of those things._

Tom didn't respond.

_Tom?_

_It may just be me Harry, but I believe you have a lion inside and you don't even see it._

Harry didn't know what to think of that. Tom had never been wrong before. They all seemed like nice traits he would like to have but experience with the Dursley's had taught him they never really worked.

_Anyway, you were going to tell me more about them?_

_Yes. Now although Hufflepuff sounds nice I think they might be a bit too quick to trust for you. Loyalty and trust do not come quickly to you I would speculate._

_What does trust have to do with any of those traits?_

_A lot more than you would first imagine. How many people do you trust Harry?_

Harry paused, considering, he really liked Professor McGonagall but what was trust? Harry didn't respond and the seconds passed by as he contemplated if he had ever truly trusted anyone. Ever.

_That is what I thought. Ravenclaw now, I can actually see you enjoying. You have the intellect and hunger for knowledge it requires._

_Did you just compliment me? _Harry wrote amused and a bit proud. He admitted to himself privately that he had been studying dedicatedly to impress his new friend with his knowledge. Not that Tom needed to know tha.

_Quiet brat, if you want my assistance. Slytherin, I believe you would have done well in Slytherin._

_Would?_

_You killed a Dark Lord. Not only that, you are a half blood. We discussed this._

_Does my blood really matter that much? And so what? And I thought you said that it was highly unlikely a toddler killed a Dark Lord?_

_It does to some, trust me. So what? I do believe I recalled us reading that Voldemort was a Slytherin. You wouldn't be very welcomed._

_Oh._

_Yes, 'Oh' summarises it fairly well._

_So not Slytherin if I can avoid it?_

_It would be beneficial in the long run. You are very resourceful no doubt, but I wouldn't recommend it. I would assume the whole house would blame you for quite a lot and I believe you would be hospitalised if not dead before the end of your first_ _year._

_You are full of optemism at my ability to stay alive and well for my first year at Hogwarts._

_Optimism._ _And yes, I do like to think of the glass of water as half full._

* * *

Harry had requested to be dropped off at Kings Cross at half past ten o'clock on September the first. Uncle Vernon, still suffering flashbacks of the living room incident, dropped off Harry like he had requested. He took the 'dropping off' part of Harry's request from the night before very literally.

Harry dashed onto the road to pick up his heavy trunk off the ground where Uncle Vernon had tossed it carelessly, scrapping his knuckles across the asphalt and losing layers of skin in his haste to get off the road. Hedwig hooted in disgust as her cage was tossed on the ground. Uncle Vernon drove off without a word as nearby people stared, but made no move to help the scrawny child as he scrambled to get off the road.

Harry forced himself to ignore the people staring on. He picked up Hedwig, his trunk and began walking, focused on Tom's instructions. When he reached the barrier between platforms 9 &amp; 10 Harry stopped, a bit uneasy, the barrier looked very solid.

Tom had never been wrong before.

Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes and walked steadily towards the wall.

He walked until suddenly, the noise changed from footsteps hurrying towards platforms, to a chattering clamouring crowd. He opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with families, cats and disgruntled owls. Harry looked back to see an archway where the barrier had been, the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on a sign above. He was finally here.

He turned back to look at the platform, trying desperately to ignore the way his chest ached viewing all the families say goodbye. In front of him a lady with long wavy brown hair and red rimmed eyes bent down with a smiling grey-haired man, together they embraced two children in a large group hug. Harry shook himself and began walking past, he shouldn't linger.

Harry brushed fingers through his unruly hair until he was certain his scar was hidden and quietly ducked through the crowd, for once being thankful of his short height.

The first few carriages seemed full so Harry dragged his trunk down the platform, wishing he could perform the charms Tom had told him about to make it lighter.

Finally he found an empty compartment near the back of the train. Hopefully he could write to Tom on the trip to Hogwarts. He put Hedwig inside first and then started attempting to lift his trunk up the steps and failed miserably, dropping it on his foot.

"Want a hand?" A red-haired older teenager came up to offer.

Harry smiled gratefully as he rotated his injured foot "Yes, please."

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

Harry blinked as an identical red-haired teenager came over. With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, reaching up to push his sweaty hair out of his eyes, before recalling it would show the scar he was attempting to keep hidden for as long as possible.

"No problem." chorused the twins.

Harry grinned as they bounded out. Their black robes had scarlet and gold edges. Gryffindors seemed nice.

He reached over for his trunk and after much wriggling managed to pull out Tom, a quill and an ink bottle. As the train began to move, he looked out the window to see the station disappearing around a bend.

Harry was taken by excitement as houses flashed by. He would leave his anxiety about going back to the Dursleys for later in the term. For now, he didn't know quite where he was going to but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

* * *

AN: Thank you to Whispers in the Dawn for beta-reading. Okay so long AN for a short chapter.

1\. I always wondered how different it would be if instead of Ginny, Harry had found Tom first. For a lot of reasons, but the one I am going to put forward is this, which should hopefully answer a few questions: "So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." (From CoS). Harry's soul is a little more complicated than then average soul. That is all I will say on the matter for now.

2\. I'm not sure about Harry, but my spelling skills were awful at 11. They still are, actually, but I have the luxury of spell check. I believe Harry will improve at a much faster rate than I did. Having a talking diary that corrects you would make anyone a faster learner.

3\. I am assuming the diary and Tom were 'asleep' (not communicated to) from the end of 1945 onwards.

4\. Also is everyone following who is saying what in the Harry/Tom conversations? Or should I be more obvious? What does everyone think of these conversations?

5\. I have thought far far too much about what house Harry will go into and I have finally decided. You should all just know Tom had undisclosed reasons to attempt to make Harry avoid Slytherin far more for his own benefit than for Harry's.

6\. Fun fact, 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' was a prerequisite first year book and the excerpt on Basilisks is actually in the book. It's amazing how you can twist canon just by having Harry read a book he was supposed to read all along.

Thank you for the follows, favourites and to the lovely reviewers! :)

Tal


	5. Chapter 4

The door of the compartment slid open just as Harry opened up his diary and yet _another_ redheaded boy came in. This one was younger, had lots of freckles and a black mark on his nose. He was still quite a bit taller than Harry, Harry noted a bit grumpily.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down and stared out the window. Harry put away the diary and after a few seconds of awkward silence, Harry gathered the courage to introduce himself.

"Hi, I'm Harry." The redhead boy turned to face him and opened his mouth to respond.

"H-"

"Hey, Ron."

The twins from earlier were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"By the way," said the other twin, turning to Harry "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley."

They both held out their left hands in complete synchronisation. Harry reached over to shake them. "I'm Harry, it's nice to meet you both." He returned politely.

"Yeah nice to meet you too Harry." Said one twin.

"See you both later, then." Said the other.

Then they were gone and the compartment door slid closed.

The two left behind shifted awkwardly. "Yeah so I'm Ron. You a first year as well?" He asked Harry.

Harry nodded. He struggled to find a conversation topic. He was quite nervous about the first conversation with a wizard his own age. What if Ron didn't like him? "So what house do you think you will be in?"

"Gryffindor hopefully," said Ron. Gloom seemed to settle on him. "My whole family is in Gryffindor. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

Harry frowned. "What is so bad about Slytherin?"

Ron stared at him. "You don't want to be in Slytherin do you?"

Well no, he didn't, but for rather unusual reasons. Harry shrugged "It seemed like a decent house." Ron's expression turned darker. Harry panicked. "I just thought some of the traits were alright. The other houses seem cool as well."

"Are you a muggleborn?"

"Yes?" Harry responded, hoping he had passed a test.

He had, the dark look left Ron's face. "Oh good. You probably wouldn't know then. You-Know-Who was in Slytherin. Nothing good has ever come from Slytherin. You do know who You-Know-Who is right?"

Green eyes blinked, a bit dumbfound by the wording of Ron's question. Umm… Harry floundered, quickly realising how awkward this conversation may turn.

"Yes I heard about You-Know-Who. Do you like Quidditch?"

Topic changed, the conversation thankfully got a little less awkward from there.

Later on, a lady passed by and after buying them both some sweets, the awkward first topic seemed to be forgotten. Harry happily chatted to Ron, delighted to be accepted by the first wizard his met his own age.

* * *

The countryside grew wilder. Ron had been showing Harry his rat when there was a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy Harry had seen on the platform earlier came in. He was also taller than Harry. Harry was seeing a height trend.

The boy looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"How about you ask one of the older students to summon him? I think there is a charm for it." Harry suggested.

The boy brightened. "Yes. I think I have seen my Grandmother use it! Thank you!" He left quickly and the boys in the compartment were left blinking at the door.

"How did you know that?" Ron asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "I think it was mentioned in one of our books."

* * *

Outside the sky had begun to turn dark. Before they got off the train in their robes, Harry had a good look at the mountains and forest surrounding them wondering idly where the school was. Harry and Ron crammed into the train corridor with everyone else and when the train finally stopped they walked out onto a dark small platform. The large but kind groundskeeper herded all the first years down a path until, after rounding a bend they saw a lake and the school. Harry's breath caught. It was beautiful. The castle loomed in the distance on the other side of the lake, bright light shone from the windows and illuminated the lake.

Harry didn't pay much attention to the boat ride that followed, far too interested in watching the castle grow closer in awe. 'Hogwarts, A History' had explained a bit about the castle, but words could not describe the beauty of the castle and the glow of magic that seemed to surround it.

Trudging out of the boats and up a slope they finally entered Hogwarts only to be introduced to a very familiar black-haired stern woman. Harry couldn't help but grin as all the other first years tried to straighten their postures and look attentive when Professor McGonagall passed her critical eye over them. After explaining the houses and hinting at them to look presentable she left them in a room off to the side of where the rest of the students could be heard chatting in the great hall.

Harry jumped from foot to foot nervously as everyone else discussed how they might possibly be sorted. Ron joined in on the speculation with the others.

Harry wished Tom had been less elusive about the sorting. He had refused to answer Harry's questions on it over the last few days apart from one sentence.

_It is a particularly troublesome test, but you have a good chance of passing._

Harry was so caught up wondering about the sorting test that he nearly didn't notice the screams when the ghosts appeared.

* * *

A hat.

They just had to put a talking hat on. No 'troublesome test'. Harry was going to set Tom on fire and laugh gleefully as the diary burned.

As Harry plotted the best way to get revenge on Tom, the sorting began. Hannah Abbott, a girl with pigtails, walked up to the stool and put the hat on. The entire hall watched her silently.

Okay, Harry reconsidered, perhaps it wasn't going to be as easy as first expected. Harry wasn't at all keen to be the centre of attention like that.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right clapped, cheered and the sorting went on.

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. Draco Malfoy, a very familiar looking boy, was sorted instantly into Slytherin, whereas Neville Longbottom sat on the stool for a few minutes before the hat declared Gryffindor.

The list reached the R's. Harry tried not to think, but what if he wasn't chosen at all? What if the hat decided he didn't belong in any of the houses? He was caught up over that train of thought, then

"Potter, Harry!"

The hall went completely silent. As Harry stepped forward, whispers broke out. He did his best to ignore them all as he walked over to the stool, Professor McGonagall smiled at him in encouragement, Harry tried to smile back but it probably looked more like a grimace. He sat down to see the entire hall peering to try look him better, people were even standing up to look over everyone else. Harry felt queasy and was rather relieved when the material of the hat dropped over his eyes.

Harry waited.

"My word." A soft voice said in his ear. "You are a difficult one. Very difficult. A nice spread of the all the houses you have there, rather impressive. But no, Hufflepuff is not for you. That leaves us with three. The intelligence is there, with the hunger for knowledge to utilise it… But wait." the voice seemed surprised "I didn't even notice it at first," the voice mused "but there is courage. The courage is hidden deep but my word it is strong. Then of course, there is the talent, the resourcefulness and the thirst to prove yourself. I think I see which house would suit you… But where do you think I should put you?"

Harry understood where the hat was going with his decision. He remembered Tom's words. Not Slytherin he thought. He wasn't going to go through being an outcast at school again, he thought determined. Not Slytherin. They would mark him an outsider for his actions as a toddler and maybe even his blood. For different reasons, but just how Dudley had outcast him throughout his previous schooling.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the voice curiously. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doub-"

He didn't want to be shunned and ignored because of events in his past he couldn't change. Not Slytherin, Harry thought with all his might.

"-No? There is that courage again. My lord it is resilient when you feel strongly about a topic. I can see you standing up for your beliefs. Well then, you are quite sure not Slytherin? It still is a hard decision, Rowena's house would welcome you, but after the determination I just witnessed, better be – GRYFFINDOR"

Harry sat astounded. Gryffindor?

_You have a lion inside and you don't even see it. _Tom's words came back to him. Damn, Harry thought glumly as he walked down to the noisily cheering Gryffindor table, Tom was going to be awfully smug for the next few days.

* * *

The first few minutes of dinner were very awkward as Harry tried talking to Ron but Ron had decided to start ignoring him. Harry had no idea what he had done but Ron's rejection hurt all the same. Thankfully, some of the other first years started to talk to him. Hermione, a bushy brown haired girl, who Harry vaguely remembered being on the boat to Hogwarts with, decided to tell Harry about all the recent history books he was in, which was very disturbing, but Hermione seemed nice if not a bit overeager.

The food was amazing. Harry was rather preoccupied with eating as his new housemates talked about themselves and their families. Everyone appeared really friendly. But then again, Ron had appeared friendly on the train earlier. Harry hoped everyone else would stay friendly.

Harry supposed being in Gryffindor could be nice, even if Harry didn't think he was very Gryffindorish.

That idea was quickly struck down.

"-it sounded by far the best; I had heard Dumbledore himself was in it," Hermione was talking about Gryffindor to Percy Weasley in the background as Harry interrupted.

"The Headmaster was in Gryffindor?" He looked over at the High Table. He could see it properly now. At the end sat the Groundskeeper Hagrid. Then he saw Professor McGonagall, deep in discussion with another teacher. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of a Chocolate Frog on the train.

"Oh yes," said Hermione brightly "he was head of our house before becoming Headmaster."

_Lovely._ His eyes continued to trace along the High Table. There was a teacher in an absurd turban who was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The greasy-haired teacher looked past the other teacher's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across Harry's scar.

Harry bit his tongue and slapped a hand on his forehead. Then the pain was gone as quickly as it had occurred. Harry turned back to ask the nearby students who the professors were.

* * *

_Ron said after dinner that I should have told him I was Harry Potter. He seems alright now but I'm not sure if I want to be good friends with him. He seems to get angry quickly, it reminded me a bit of a friend of Dudley's. Also, if you say any other variation of 'I told you so' again about my house I will find pink ink and write to you with it. I can't believe I'm in the same house Dumbledore was in. At least Professor McGonagall is my Head of House I suppose._

_I would not talk to you for a week if you ever take pink ink near me. Mr Weasley seems to see the world in black and white, I wouldn't recommend getting too close to him. I admit am still caught up on your earlier comment about the third-floor corridor. Let me quote, just to make sure I understood: "the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Dumbledore said that to the whole student population?_

_Yep._

_He told a group of inquisitive students that they would die a painful death if they went to one exact spot in the school._

_Yep._

_I can already see how much of a headache this year is going to be. Go to bed Boy-Who-Lived, you have an entire school waiting to stare at your forehead first thing in the morning. _

_Night Tom._

* * *

Why was Tom always right? Harry tried to ignore the whispers, the stares and people craning to get a look at him over the crowd of people at each corner. People even walked past him, only to double back and walk in the direction they had come to stare more.

Harry dearly wished from the bottom of his heart that they would all find something else to stare at. He was busy trying not to get lost on one hundred and forty-two staircases which _moved_, doors which weren't doors but walls and doors which were actually doors but only opened if you knew how to open them. To top that all off, the pictures moved to different frames when they got bored.

Harry was also positive that a coat of armour hadn't been on that wall the day before. Did they move as well?

At least when Harry actually found his classrooms, he was enjoying most of his classes immensely. There was nothing like the feeling of doing magic. He had been waiting all summer to put his knowledge into action and it had paid off. He was usually first in his class to complete new spells, which surprised him as he thought surely the non-muggleborn students would be better than him. Tom's knowledge probably helped. Harry's favourite class by far was Transfiguration although he may be biased because he liked Professor McGonagall. She was as clever and sharp while teaching as Harry had always predicted and had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

There was however, a few classes Harry didn't enjoy, but he was working on solutions to them.

History of Magic was a bore, Harry supposed, but he had a library pass and after picking out a few basic magic history books he had something to occupy his time with while Professor Binns droned on about Goblins.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had been an utter disappointment. Professor Quirrell was more terrified over the prospect of teaching than interested in actually teaching them anything. So Harry once again used his library pass, this time for defence books to read in class. On the practical side, Tom had already offered to teach him, so Harry had enquired to Professor McGonagall about spare rooms in which to practice. After dinner if Harry didn't go to the library for homework, he planned to practice under Tom's guidance.

The solutions to those classes had been simple. However after Harry's first ever Potions lesson on Friday morning he realised that the solution for Potions was going to be a lot more difficult.

* * *

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air. Harry had a bad feeling about this.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry, while recalling reading about a bezoar, still had not recollection of where it came from.

"I don't know, sir." said Harry quietly. He ignored some of the Slytherins silently laughing on the side but memorised their faces for future reference. It was always good to know who not to trust. He remembered the blond one laughing was Malfoy, who seemed to practically run the first year Slytherins from what Harry had observed.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes and didn't blink or retort. Snape was still ignoring Hermione.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Finally Harry remembered something he had read in 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'.

"They are the same plant, sir"

"One out of three? Dear dear fame must have gotten to you. For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

After a lesson from hell, Harry left Potions in silence and after a quick farewell to Ron who had been sitting with him, went straight to the library. He pulled out his potions books and spent the next hour looking though them. He found a description of a bezoar, but the Draught of Living Death had not even been mentioned in the prerequisite books.

Yes, Harry decided grimly, Potions was going to be a problem.

* * *

Harry quickly fell into a routine over the next week after Hogwarts became easier to navigate. No less a maze, but a maze he was beginning to remember. It was nice being able to talk with all of his classmates, although he didn't really make any close friends. He would see the other Gryffindors in class and usually sat next to Ron but out of class he spent his time writing to Tom or studying by himself.

* * *

Soon it was his second Thursday at Hogwarts. The first flying lesson with the Slytherins was going to be held in the afternoon. Ron had explained Quidditch in great detail over breakfast in the morning, but Harry admitted to himself Tom summarised it rather well;

_Quidditch is a senseless sport which involves flying on a broomstick very high above the ground while trying to score points and in the same instant trying not to get knocked off the broomstick and fall a very long way down._

Harry promised himself that he would avoid going too high during the lessons as he left the common room with the other first year Gryffindors.

* * *

Harry sat in the library after dinner writing to Tom about an eventful afternoon.

_I do not think I read your long account correctly, summarise it for me._

_In summary? Draco Malfoy challenged me at dinner to a midnight duel tonight and Ron was sitting next to me and accepted for me before I could say no. Hermione got annoyed and I haven't thought of a way to convince Ron not to go to the Trophy room without him starting to ignore me again. Professor McGonagall is half cross with me for putting myself in danger half delighted my flying skills are like my fathers and I'm now the youngest seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team in a century because I felt bad about somebody taking Neville's Remembrall. _Harry summarised his narrative.

_This year is going to be one vast headache for me. _Was all that Tom dignified to slowing write in response wearily.

* * *

AN: So Gryffindor it is. I hope I explained why satisfactory and everyone waiting for his house can forgive me if they preferred the others. It was all a struggle to put into words. It was also quite the struggle to decide on Gryffindor. Slytherin and Ravenclaw was SO tempting. But reasons, reasons, reasons.

Thank you for the follows, favourite and reviews!

Tallara


	6. Chapter 5

Harry had struggled all evening attempting to convince Ron that going to the Trophy Room was a bad idea. Half an hour before midnight Ron was still stubbornly refusing to stay and Harry realised the consequences of not going to the Trophy Room would be their tentative friendship.

* * *

_I am beginning to regret ever being amused at your house placement if this is what it results in. I find myself wishing you could go get resorted into Ravenclaw. Are you even sure Draco Malfoy is going to show up? Any Slytherin with half the brains of an owl would just report you to a teacher and let you get caught._

_I hadn't thought of that._

_You should start thinking like that. Just because you aren't in the house of the snake or raven doesn't mean you need to lose the few brain cells that made you interesting enough to talk to Harry Potter._

_I will take that as a compliment that you think I have brain cells._

_I am beginning to think wearing gold and scarlet drains brain cells. Do be careful to hold onto the few you still possess._

* * *

Toms' remarks haunted Harry as he crept down the staircase with not only Ron Weasley but also a tag-along Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom towards Trophy Room.

They tiptoed across the third floor hallway to where the trophy room lay. Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet or they just weren't coming like Tom predicted. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold through crystal trophy cases in the darkness. Harry spotted the Quidditch cup right at the front of the room. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. The minutes crept by.

Ron began to theorise that Malfoy had chickened out. Harry let his eyes drift over the nearest trophy shelf to alleviate his boredom, only to gape in utter disbelief at a trophy in the corner of the cabinet.

_Awarded to,_

_T. M. Riddle_

_For Special Services to the School_

A noise in the next room made them all jump.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." Filch and Ms Norris. _Marvellous_.

Damn. Why was Tom_ always_ right? He pulled out his wand only to recall he didn't know any distraction or hiding spells. If Harry didn't get expelled tonight he was knew what Tom was teaching him for the next few weeks.

Harry gestured frantically to the others and praying they would follow him, began to shuffle towards the far door. Not looking back as it would only slow him down, Harry got through the door and quickly began to quietly walk across the next room. There was a squeak from Neville behind him and Harry felt time slow down as he turned around to see Ron and Neville topple into a suit of armour.

The clanging and crashing was probably enough to wake the whole castle thought Harry a tad hysterically. Hermione, Ron and Neville all looked at him. What did they expect him to do? "Run." He told them simply before turning away and sprinting out into the corridor.

They ran. Eventually after ending up near the charms room they stopped and gasped for breath. Hermione was repeating "I told you." between inhales.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that-"

"Yes I realise." Harry snapped back. He knew this whole situation was his own fault. He should have never come out in the first place. What had he been_ thinking_?

That was the problem, said a snarky voice in his head that reminded him of Tom, you _didn't_ think.

Of course the night didn't get any better from there. As they moved down the corridor back in the direction of the Gryffindor tower they came across Peeves floating out of a spare classroom.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"

Harry was never ignoring Tom's advice again. Or following Ron anywhere.

* * *

_I'll begin by teaching you a simple self-silencing charm and a smoke charm this weekend._

_Great_

_Moving back to your earlier 'adventure'. A fully grown Cerberus was on top of a trap door, in the middle of a school and was guarded by a single door which you only had to cast a first year door-unlocking charm on to open?_

_I didn't think of it like that at the time. I was busier trying not to get caught by Filch or eaten, but I suppose so?_

_We haven't even finished your second week at Hogwarts. Please reassure me this is the last of your Gryffindor stunts for the term. Surely it is all out of your system now. _

_I haven't done any Gryffindor stunts, I'm just in the house with Gryffindors. They lead me into these situations._

_Denial is not just a river in Egypt._

He was not a Gryffindor. Not really. He wasn't brave, daring or chivalrous. Harry still didn't know what the sorting hat had been thinking. Harry closed the diary and put it under his pillow and place the inkwell and quill on his bedside table. Cancelling his light charm, he lay down and curled up in his bed staring at the curtains. Why hadn't he asked Tom about the trophy? It was probably some trivial- No. Harry cut off that train of thought. You had to do something pretty big to have a trophy dedicated to you in the Hogwarts Trophy room. Special services? Why did Tom never talk about his previous owner? Hopefully Harry would be able to use this to resolve the mysteries around his diary.

* * *

It was Friday morning. Harry was tired and not looking forward to double Potions that afternoon. Ron was cheerfully waving, while shovelling down breakfast, at a disbelieving Draco Malfoy staring at them in surprise from the Slytherin table. Harry was just as surprised it had all worked out as Malfoy was. Ron had apparently gotten over how terrifying the night was and had decided it had been an excellent adventure.

"I wonder what was beneath the trapdoor. It would have to be something really valuable-" Neville and Hermione seemed just as disinterested to what lay under the trapdoor as Harry was.

He held his temper in check all day between Ron's theories and Snape's insults but fled to a spare classroom to practice spells with Tom as soon as the classes of the day were over.

_I keep getting a loud noise from my wand whenever I complete the last hand flick movement to self-silencing spell. Afterwards the spell seems to work just fine._

_That would suggest you are once again putting too much power in the charm. It's amusing really, most children have the opposite problem - they never put enough magic or concentration into their spellwork._

_So this is like how I blinded myself a week ago with Lumos Maxima?_

_Exactly. It's a simple spell trying to account for the strength of your magic. You have to let your magic flow as you say the charm and do not force too much magic into it. It's not supposed to have a large amount of magic, it is an easy spell._

_So a harder self-silencing charm would work better and be easier for me to cast? Can I just learn the harder self-silencing charm instead?_

_Do you want to burn down a house every time you try a simple fire-lighting charm? Don't question your elders brat._

_Point taken._

* * *

Harry woke up on Halloween and stared up at the scarlet ceiling. He couldn't believe he had been at Hogwarts for two whole brilliant months. Between training for Quidditch, classes, homework and all the extra study he was doing with Tom he had no spare time, which was perfect. He had drifted away from Ron over that time, but they were still typically partners in class.

Harry had a sunny mood that matched the weather as he practically skipped down to breakfast much to the amusement of Neville who accompanied him. They chatted about Herbology and Harry asked a few questions about snivelling reeds for their latest essay. Neville was by far the best at Herbology and when not talking about their projects and assignments it was always good to learn about the deadly plants to avoid.

In Charms he was partnered with Seamus Finnigan in what looked to be a very awkward lesson in charming feathers to float. For two main reasons, firstly Ron and Hermione were partnered – something which had been avoided for the last two months. Secondly, because Harry had already taught himself the levitation charm Professor Flitwick was teaching two weeks earlier.

The second problem had been happening a lot recently but Harry agreed with Tom. The pace of the curriculum was extremely sluggish. Harry always just wanted to skip ahead when practicing by himself. The main problem with this was that Ron got grouchy whenever Harry got the spell perfect on the first try in class, no matter how much Harry assured him afterwards that he had practiced it beforehand. Due to this, Harry had been purposefully getting spells wrong in class to try keep Ron happy. Although they were not close, Harry still liked having him as a friend. Nobody seemed to have noticed apart from Professor McGonagall who arched a single eyebrow at Harry every lesson but didn't comment.

Bringing himself out of his musings he helped Seamus put out the feather he had accidently set on fire. In the background Ron and Hermione started arguing and Harry silently mourned his 'peaceful lunch' as it turned into an 'angry Ron lunch'. He decided to skip lunch completely and go finish his Herbology essay in the library.

Hours later with all homework completed Harry was on his way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast when he overheard Parvati Patil telling Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Maybe Ron said something to her in Charms? Harry wondered, he hadn't been nearly as much attention as he probably should have. Walking over to sit with the Gryffindor first years he was distracted by the Great Hall's incredible Halloween decorations for the feast.

Harry was discussing Quidditch strategies with Ron when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

The Great Hall erupted into a noise so deafening it was like none Harry had ever heard.

* * *

Harry had a nagging feeling, like he had mislaid something, as the first years followed Percy back to the Gryffindor common room. He stopped on the stairs against the railing in horror as the rest of his classmates walked by. How had he forgotten? He turned to go back down the staircase.

"Where are you going Harry?" Ron hissed and grabbed his robes.

"Hermione."

Ron stared at Harry like he had grown a second head. "What about Hermione?"

"She doesn't know about the Troll. She was crying about something in the girl's bathroom."

Ron instantly looked guilty. Harry did not even want to _begin_ to unearth whatever stupidity Ron had done earlier in the day.

"I have to go tell her. Now." Harry tore out of Ron's grasp and began hurrying down the staircase.

"Wait, Harry! Oh _fine_."

Harry would have stopped to yell at Ron but he was preoccupied trying to remember his way to the girl's bathroom. As they hurried towards it Harry's mind was a mess thinking about Hermione, nevertheless, one thought prevailed above the others. What if they did run into the Troll? Harry prayed it was still in the dungeons. Trolls... What had 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' said about trolls?

Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind them and yanked Ron by his robes behind a stone statue in the next corridor. Then of all people, Professor Snape walked by.

"Why…" Harry trailed off as he watched Snape speed-walk down the hallway. It didn't matter. He had much more pressing issues.

They turned and took the next corridor quietly as Snape's footsteps faded in the distance.

"He's heading for the third floor," said Ron.

Harry's nose had discovered a much more urgent problem than Snape's whereabouts as they rounded the next corner. Harry smelled something foul, a revolting cross between off milk and an unflushed toilet.

Harry suddenly remembered with clarity exactly what 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' had to say about trolls. They were stupid, had no magic powers other than their naturally enhanced strength, were handily equipped with thick skin that absorbed most basic spells and most importantly they smelled absolutely terrible.

Harry pulled Ron back into the shadows of their previous corridor just before they heard grunting and thudding footsteps. The troll passed though the hallway as they cowered in the shadows of the corridor, it was a horrible sight Harry knew he would remember and a smell that would take him days to be rid of. The Troll continued down the hallway dragging behind it a massive club. It stopped at a doorway with its head tilted and walked inside the room.

Harry's stomach dropped in horror as he recognised the doorway. He pleaded with any deity above that Hermione had left the girls bathroom. There was a high, petrified scream. She hadn't.

"That's the girl's bathroom!" gasped Ron.

If the situation had not been so dire Harry would have rolled his eyes. Maybe even said a witty sarcastic one-liner thanks to Tom's influence. Instead he dashed down the hallway to the bathroom and ran inside, pulling out his wand. Harry ran through the mediocre list of spells he could perform but he knew none of them would get through the Troll's thick skin anyway.

Hermione was curled up in a ball in the far corner of the bathroom, the Troll was walking towards her, knocking the sinks off the wall with its club as it advanced. So Harry did the most ill-advised but logical action. He yelled at it.

"Oi!" The Troll turned to squint at Harry, decided he was more irritating than the girl in the corner and started to lumber over to him. Brilliant. Now what? Harry began to back away slowly, then a metaphorical light bulb switched on in his head as he saw the Troll's eyes following him. It's eyes weren't protected. A plan began to form.

He nearly tripped over Ron who had been standing right beside him as he turned around. Harry grabbed Ron's robes and pulled him back out the doorway.

"Wha-"

"Close your eyes!" Harry yelled as he continued to drag Ron down the hallway. He pointed his wand back at the Troll which had dragged itself around the doorway to chase them. Harry double checked the troll had its eyes open and closed his own eyes.

Harry took a deep breath and gathered his will. Flick, draw hand back, flick. "_Lumos Maxima!"_

A bright light flashed across his eyelids, searing even through his closed eyes. The Troll wailed and Harry cancelled the spell. He opened his eyes to see the troll wobbling unsteadily before falling over with a thud which shook the floor. Sitting down against the hallway wall it rubbed its small eyes with giant fists and letting out an ear-piercing wail.

Harry felt a little sympathetic, he had blinded himself the same way when he first performed the spell. But it wasn't over yet, the blindness wouldn't last for long. Harry pointed his wand at the fallen club.

Swish and flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The club lifted off the ground and obeyed Harry's command to drift high above the Troll's head. Harry ended the spell and the club fell with a cringe-worthy crack onto its owners head. The Troll swayed for a moment before falling sideways completely onto the marble floor.

There was silence.

Ron made a flabbergasted noise from beside him. Hermione stumbled through the doorway from the wrecked girls' bathroom. She stared at the 12 foot mountain troll lying a metre or so from the doorway with gallon-sized eyes.

She spoke first. "Is it dead?"

"Don't think so," Harry admitted "Don't get too close I think I just knocked it out."

Hermione took a step backwards. Then took three more. Then five more to be safe.

"What was that light spell?" Ron asked in awe.

Harry for a moment of amusement, deliberated explaining to Ron how he had learnt Lumos Maxima just so he could to write to a diary after the dorm had gone to sleep at night, not to battle mountain Trolls.

Harry heard loud footsteps and looked up from the Troll. It hadn't even occurred to him that people would have heard the racket they had been making. Professor McGonagall led the group of teachers down the hallway to them. Harry took one look at the furious expression on her face and gulped.

* * *

Harry sat in the common room at three in the morning explaining yet again the latest drama.

_So Hermione lied to a teacher. Ron and I ended up earning 5 points for Gryffindor and Ron has already completely forgotten that it was his hurtful actions that got us three into the situation in the first place. Hermione has warmed up to Ron now so I suppose there will be less mutual glaring around meals. _

_Have you finally accepted that you were put in Gryffindor for a reason?_

_What? _

_I am suggesting that this is a sterling example of you being a Gryffindor. The sooner we can move past the fact you do have Gryffindor traits we can hopefully work on harnessing them and prevent you from having any more ridiculous exploits in which you decide to not tell a teacher, but instead run off with another idiotic first year to go battle a mountain troll._

Harry shut the diary and rubbed his eyes. Tonight had been just like the Remembrall incident. Why had he run into danger again? Regardless of his own safety or any forward planning?

Because you are a Gryffindor, a section of his mind whispered, the hat let you choose between those houses only because it thought you belonged in all of them_._ They were both right, Harry realised, pushing his own emotions on the matter aside. He was a Gryffindor, but was that such a bad thing?

Albus Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor.

No. Harry decided firmly, one person did not represent a house. He had been thinking very childishly about it all. He had Gryffindor traits and by acknowledging this fact, he could use it. Harry felt like a big weight had been lifted off his chest. He had a lion inside him along with a snake, a raven and probably even a small badger. Hogwarts had a mentality that people were defined by their houses and that mentality had been adopted by him over the past two months. It was wrong.

Harry lifted his head from his hands, staring down at the common room fire as it burned merrily, outlining the bold scarlet and gold colours of his house. He couldn't help but grin. People would expect him to be a Gryffindor all the time. Even Tom seemed to think Harry was more Gryffindor than Slytherin. Harry could work with this.

* * *

AN: So a few questions I should answer.

Firstly, Draco not offering friendship to Harry? So originally in the first book Draco offers his friendship on the train after hearing (probably from Hermione) that Harry Potter was in a certain compartment. The reason I didn't have Draco offering friendship in this series is because: Nobody knew where, if at all, that the boy-who-lived was on the train - Draco didn't know what he looked like - Harry gets sorted into Gryffindor. Personal opinion is that Draco wouldn't want to offer friendship to a Gryffindor (despite probably getting asked to by his father) due to the reaction of the Slytherin house. Further backed up after seeing his godfather mocking Harry though his first potions lesson. I recall Draco really looks up to Snape and believe would follow his example.

(Sorry about the word vomit.)

Secondly, how long I will follow cannon? I can say is that a general adherence to cannon will be followed for a while. Of course with some changes but the true divergence will not begin in the first year.

I should broadcast this – The story will be skimmed (like it has been to a point) while I am following a cannon-like path. Once it diverges properly will be when I expand my writing.

Last point for this chapter is that I imagine when beginning to use magic with a wand you would repeat the hand motions in your head as you performed a spell. That's what all the swishing and flicking was about when Harry was casting at the troll. ^^;

Thank you everyone for your kind reviews, follows and favourites!

Tal


	7. Chapter 6

On the first of November Harry woke up with the sun. He had been up all night with Tom but still felt strangely refreshed - this was probably due to his acknowledgement that he could have been killed by a Mountain Troll the evening before. Nearly being crushed did wonders for ones appreciation of being alive and healthy.

Harry was the only Gryffindor at breakfast, a few members of the other houses were scattered around their respective tables. Harry looked at their robes and found it immensely amusing how much everybody seemed to care what colour edges other peoples robes had. He still couldn't believe he had been acting with the same attitude just a few hours earlier.

Shaking his head as he finished his toast Harry realised exactly what he could do with his morning. He headed to the library and sat on a bench outside, it would be open in just under an hour. He pulled out his latest failed Potion's essay to review. By the end of term Snape would have trouble catching him off-guard and failing him with the amount of effort Harry was applying to fix all the small errors Snape consistently failed Harry on.

Harry grudgingly admitted thanks to Snape's efforts to give him the lowest grade possible, his essay writing skills had improved dramatically. All the other Professors were beginning to comment on how much his skills had improved.

After Madam Pince finally opened the library doors, Harry inquired about the location of the public Hogwarts registry for a History of Magic project. It was in a side room, away from where students couldn't damage it. He thanked Madam Pince and searched through the gigantic book under Madam Pince's vulture-like watchful gaze to the graduating class of 1945.

Harry was many things, a Gryffindor among them, but he was not an idiot.

* * *

Harry watched Hermione and Ron out of the corner of his eye curiously from where he had been reading 'Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2' in the far corner of the common room. Hermione was explaining the basic concept of temporary and permanent Transfigurations to a baffled Ron. There was a lot of hand gestures and although Ron kept getting progressively more baffled, just a month ago he would have called her a know-it-all and stormed off, now he sat through it. Bonding over a twelve foot Mountain Troll really did work miracles.

Harry felt a pang of regret at the possibilities lost, as he choose not to walk over and join in. Hermione was decent at explaining concepts but she lacked the ability to translate what a book was explaining into simpler terms. He had chosen this distance, Harry reminded himself firmly. He was friends with most of the first year Gryffindors but close to none of them. He could sit down and chat to anyone at meals and in classes but outside those activities he spent his time studying, flying or writing with Tom.

It was because of Tom that he didn't go over and rescue Ron from his bafflement over "molecular structure". The week or so after Halloween Harry had spent the majority of his time playing exploding snap Ron, discussing books with Hermione or chatting with them both. Ron had even stopped being grouchy over Harry's habit in class to get the spell right on his first try in class. Throughout that week Harry hadn't even realised he had been neglecting Tom. That had all changed with one elegant line of handwriting.

_I will not stand being discarded because you made a new friend or two after our months together._

For Harry, the choice had been simple and he had detached himself again. He had started heading off to a spare classroom or the far reaches of the library and only interacting with Ron and Hermione during the set hours of classes and meals. He thought Hermione and Ron would try to keep being friends with Harry so he would feel comfortable telling Tom he needed some time with the other Gryffindors. He had been wrong. Hermione and Ron didn't question him as he distanced himself. It had been silly of him to think they would care.

So Harry watched on as the close friendships developed around him and took comfort in the fact he had Tom. He didn't need anyone else. Tom understood him in a way nobody had and he wouldn't lose that to anything.

Harry was wistful all the same as he watched Ron ask what "molekulaar structure" was.

* * *

Tom couldn't contain his delight. Well, he couldn't express it either because he was stuck in his cage, but figuratively he couldn't contain his delight. He was able to properly isolate Harry off the ignorance of two first year Gryffindors. If he had known all it would take was encouraging Harry to form a bond, then playing on his guilt and letting Harry see firsthand that the other students didn't care when he distanced himself again, Tom would have suggested becoming closer with the foolish Weasley back in September.

He hadn't been getting nearly as much power from the child as he first anticipated he would, it was almost as if Harry had instinctively blocked Tom from stealing life force from him even as they wrote to each other. But it was all in the past now, Tom would start gaining proper footing over Harry's soul from his proper isolation and finally get his plans for the Chamber underway.

Tom was a little irritated that he would have to kill the child eventually. Harry was so sharp, mistrusting and brilliant entertainment. Tom had been growing rather fond of him. It was also a pleasure that Tom had never needed to act sweet or polite, which had been rather sickening act in the beginning before he had more accurately gauged Harry's moods. To think the child actually _preferred_ a cold sarcastic diary. They had so many similarities and the child was a_ parselmouth_ of all things. Which was very fascinating. Tom was not one to believe in coincidences.

Harry was a fascinating mix of contradictions, especially for one so young. He would have made an excellent possession.

Regrettably, sacrifices had to be made in order to purge those with dirty blood from his beloved Hogwarts.

Tom was in a rather murderous mood. Really, being trapped living a pitiful existence in a diary for fifty years could do that to anyone. Even if they weren't already cruel, sadistic, manipulative and psychopathic.

* * *

Staring at his soggy cereal Harry tried to calm his nerves. It was still three days before his first Quidditch match but Harry was already beginning to feel the stress. His secret placement on the team had not remained so secret. His first ever Quidditch game was against Slytherin, the grudge matches between the two houses were legendary. Fred and George had even made an amusing ballad about the match between the two teams in the previous year. There had been four broken bones aparently. Due to this, people were either wishing him good luck, assuring him that he would be brilliant or telling him they would cry at his funeral.

Harry actually found his own nerves amusing, considering what he had already been through this term he doubted even a Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor could be that bad.

* * *

Harry hung from his nimbus two-thousand with two sweaty slippery hands and held on for dear life as the broom continued to lurch and shudder.

This time, some minor part of Harry's mind that wasn't petrified with fear commented, was _not_ his fault.

Fred and George circled beneath him, yelling encouragement and telling him they would catch him if he fell. The broom gave a massive jerk and for a second he was dangling from the broom by one hand before swinging his other hand back up to grasp the broom desperately.

So _not_ his fault.

* * *

"I've got the Snitch!" Harry shouted, waving it above his head from where he was kneeling on the Quidditch pitch. He had never been so happy to get off a broomstick in his life.

The confusion around Harry swallowing the snitch gave him enough time to mask his true feelings. As he watched the crowd Harry knew there were far too many faces to catalogue them all, but his eyes drifted over them all the same. One face in that sea of faces had just tried to kill him. But now was not the time to act like anything other than a Quidditch player pleased to have still have just won the match.

Harry plastered a grin on his face. He was very pissed off. It was one thing for him to be a Gryffindor and get himself into trouble. That was his own fault, but this? Funnily enough Harry really didn't appreciate someone trying to murder him.

* * *

Harry needed to get to the library or just somewhere alone so he could talk to Tom. He headed to the change rooms, ignoring Flint still wailing in the background about how it didn't count if you _swallowed _the snitch. His escape from the Quidditch pitch was halted by Ron and Hermione running up to him as he snuck around the stands to avoid the crowd.

"It was Snape." Blurted out Ron as he soon as they were close before Harry had a chance to say anything.

Harry stared at Ron for a moment. He couldn't help it, he burst out laughing at the sheer improbability of Snape having tried to murder him.

"Ron is right." Harry turned to stare at Hermione. He knew Ron jumped to conclusions, but Hermione Granger?

Ron continued on "Yesterday he took a Herbology library book off Neville when we were outside and I went to get it and saw his leg had been bitten by the dog guarding the trapdoor probably on Halloween," Ron took a deep breath and continued "and earlier when you were hanging from the broom we saw him cursing you and Hermione set his robes on fire then your broom stopped acting up. "

They explained again in more detail. Harry's mind reeled from the information.

He thanked them both quickly but sincerely and made his escape. He had a diary to talk to and a library to visit.

Snape? It made sense from what they had told him. But Snape openly hated him. Snape was a Slytherin, the head of Slytherin house even. If Snape wanted to murder someone he would not first make his dislike for them known school wide and then try to murder them. It was just all so illogical. It was like believing you had found the right puzzle piece but as you kept attempting to push it into the spot on the puzzle one edge didn't fit.

* * *

_Hi Tom. Sorry to be blunt but how much do you know about types of magic that could take over control of a broomstick at a far distance and make the broomstick buck the rider off so they fall to their death during the middle of a Quidditch match? Could I possibly trace the magic cast back to its owner via my broomstick?_

_Child, this is honestly getting quite ridiculous._

Harry had reached the library just before midday. He was still in the far corner of the library when night fell talking to Tom and using what books he could get his hands on outside the restricted section. He hadn't eaten since his attempt to eat breakfast before the disastrous Quidditch match but had spent much longer stretches without food before.

He had come to a few conclusions quickly. There wasn't a way he could personally trace the magic, he wouldn't have that sort of ability until at least his seventh year at Hogwarts. He couldn't ask a Professor either, not even Professor McGonagall, as it would raise questions to how Harry had acquired knowledge on tracing advanced jinxes. Knowledge which was kept inside the restricted section. Harry had acknowledged by now that his diary was no average magical diary, he couldn't risk Tom being discovered, even over this.

Moving on from there his mind turned to the Snape problem. Could it really have been Snape?

He put Snape as number one on his imaginary list of people-that-may-have-tried-to-kill-me-today and moved on to fill the list with other options.

He had been pondering motives for five hours before it hit him like a snowball to the face.

Motivation, check. Magical knowledge, check. Power, check.

He quickly pulled Tom over from the other corner of his desk.

_They never found a body. What if Voldemort isn't as vanquished as widely believed? _

_Then I would personally start feeling very scared if I was you Harry._

* * *

"Hi Harry."

He looked up at Hermione in surprise. Nobody had ever come over to his corner in the depths of the library to talk to him. He had been hiding here in the resurgence of his popularity since the Quidditch game the week before. It was even more disconcerting having people stare at him now, since he knew somebody was trying to kill him.

"Hi Hermione."

She winced slightly, his smile must not have been very convincing. "I just wanted to give you this, after I saw you playing last week, before the broom incident, I thought you might like it." She handed him a book.

_Quidditch Through the Ages_

"If you ever need any help you can always ask me. You know that right? I did miss you when you started to leave on your own again. I was glad you were unhurt when Ron and I talked to you last week after the game."

Harry stared up at Hermione who was fidgeting nervously. Harry smiled properly.

"Thanks Hermione. Also, sorry I didn't get around to it last week, but thanks for setting Snape's robes on fire. May have saved my life."

"No problem Harry. I owed you for the troll anyway remember?" She smiled at him in a way which told Harry she hadn't done anything because of the Troll. She turned and walked away.

Harry stared down at 'Quidditch through the Ages'.

"Oh and one more thing Harry." Hermione was back. "If you ever want a study partner, I know you practice spells on your own, but studying in library can be awfully boring by yourself."

Harry grinned. "Want to complete the History of Magic essay with me after Herbology tomorrow?"

Hermione nodded smiling. "See you tomorrow then." She left the library.

Harry ran a finger over the gold title of the book. So Hermione really did care. He had been such a fool.

Harry didn't talk to Tom half the time he was in the library anyway so it wouldn't even interrupt his time with Tom.

Tom didn't even have to know if he had found a study partner.

After all, best friend or not, Harry was perfectly well aware some things didn't make sense when it came to his diary.

* * *

AN: Okay this is one of those chapters I have where I dragged my feet through it (while comforting myself by writing scenes 3 years in the future of the story). I knew some parts of the first few years were going to drag on for me. I will admit although I do not have anything against Hermione, I have always found her difficult to write. Which is amusing because she was my favourite character when I first read the books as a child. Ron on the other hand I have always had a dislike for, which I am trying to curb out of my writing. For the moment at least. So I hope they both weren't too OOC so far.

Also, I have come to the realisation that not having Hagrid directly involved to 'Deus ex machine' the plot of the first book along does make it a little more difficult (a lot). It is amazing going back to reading the first book and seeing how much he 'Deus ex machine' the entire plotline.

Another thing is that yes, Tom is still a bad bad person. To be honest, if he was any other way at this point I think he would be far too out of character. I really hope you enjoyed his POV. Please do let me know what you think of my portrayals of him and Harry.

Thank you to the followers, favourites and most importantly the reviewers!

Tal


	8. Chapter 7

Two weeks after the eventful Quidditch match Hogwarts finally calmed down and focus on their own lives again instead of his.

Harry had gotten into a habit of studying in the library a few times a week with Hermione and occasionally Ron. Harry's written homework had never been completed faster. Hermione was going to be an academic when she grew up if Harry could gamble on a career path.

Hermione was a very intriguing person to Harry, after you past her somewhat overbearing nature. On one hand she was very intelligent, on the other she placed so much belief in power of the written word and held such strong trust for authority.

Harry imagined he may have come to Hogwarts with a parallel attitude if not for his childhood. His mistrust for authority was easy to explain, the day he learned books had weaknesses was a painful memory. It likely accounted for why he strove so hard in the physical application of magic.

Harry had been in love with the written word as a child, especially fantasy books that could take him away from the Dursleys. He had been a tiny six year old walking home from school when he realised although books could teach you many things, you could never rely on them. He remembered clearly as Dudley's gang ambushed him, refusing to hand over 'The Faraway Tree' and then the throbbing pain as he discovered books did not shield you from a kick to the abdomen or a punch to the face.

Yes, Hermione and he may well have been very alike.

* * *

The Christmas Holidays snuck up on Harry like bludger to the back. But thankfully without the pain. Soon enough Professor McGonagall came around a week before the holidays started to make a list of people staying for the break. He had never quite felt so much delight signing his name on a list before.

The holidays were just as brilliant as Harry envisioned them to be. Well, after he got his homework done.

_I am not teaching you the general counter-spell until you complete your Astronomy project on the planet rotations._

_Please?_

_All right._

_Really? Grea-_

_Of course not._

_I hate astronomy._

_So do I. Pointless subject. Sadly for you that doesn't resolve your lack of a completed Astronomy project._

* * *

_Finished it._

_No you haven't child._

_How did you know?_

_Because you just told me._

_I hate you._

* * *

_Finished it._

_How long does it take for Jupiter to orbit the sun?_

_I just want to learn Finite Incantatem_. _One spell. _

_Let me remind you that Harry Potter was the one who asked me not to instruct him until his 'boring Christmas homework' was complete._

_I hate myself._

* * *

_4431 days / 11.86 years_

_Neptune?_

_I hate you._

_I will never recover from you cruel shattering insults._

* * *

_164.79 years. Finished it!_

_You really need to stop trying to lie to me. It really is a fruitless endeavour._

_But I have finished it this time._

_No you haven't._

_Okay, I give in. I've done half. How did you know this time?_

_I know everything child._

_HOW?_

_If I can tell you are lying through your handwriting I can only imagine how appalling you are at lying to a person's face._

_Seriously?_

_You are writing too rapidly. If you had really finished the astronomy project you handwriting would be smaller, less legible and slower from your cramped hand. You always do Astronomy homework in one sitting and get hand cramps._

_You terrify me._

_Thank you._

* * *

When all his Christmas homework was actually complete the true holidays began. Harry had never been one for the Christmas cheer. Cooking a Christmas dinner he wouldn't be allowed to eat while watching presents being exchanged under the Dursley's Christmas tree didn't give one much love for the holiday season.

However it was hard not to fall in love with Hogwarts all over again during the winter break. Harry spent the majority of his time with Tom, which was brilliant in itself. When he wasn't with Tom he was still having the best holidays he had ever had.

* * *

Harry sucked in a deep breath and bit his lip. He couldn't laugh. Harry, Fred and George crept down the hidden passageway. They had to make a silent but hasty retreat. Emphasis on the hasty, because Harry didn't know how much longer he could contain his laughter and by the looks of the redheads, they couldn't either. They all silently crept out from behind a grey banner onto the second floor and even began swiftly walking in the direction of the Gryffindor common room before George tripped on the carpet and was laughing before he hit the ground.

Fred and Harry soon followed into hysterics. The look on Filch's face had been priceless when he had seen Ms Norris, who had actually seemed quite content with her new look.

Harry laughed so hard he needed to lean on something. He stumbled over to lean on the nearest portrait, wheezing with laughter - only for his hand to go through the portrait. The rest of his body unbalanced and soon tumbled through. Green eyes blinked up from his hands and knees and Harry stared up a staircase, illuminated by windows. Huh.

A few hours later as they finished exploring the new hidden staircase, the three headed to dinner.

Harry had nearly choked on a baked potato when a furious Filch entered with a bright yellow Ms Norris. He turned to look at the twins. The redhead's didn't even look interested in the proceedings, too busy debating over the best type of soup.

Harry noted never to underestimate the Twins or their acting skills.

* * *

Harry had been alone at dinner, running late because of practicing spells with Tom. He hadn't expected any company but the groundskeeper Hagrid had come over to greet him. Two hours later they were still talking. Hagrid was nice but seemed to have an unhealthy love of dangerous creatures.

"So I said to the bloke next to me 'I dunno what your eyesight is like but that's not a bird that's a bloody big griffin.'" Hagrid chuckled around his mug. "Should have seen the look on his face. But we all got away alright in the end towards the lake. Then we ran into the local mer. They were a little harder to deal with."

Dinner cold and completely forgotten Harry just gaped and continued to listen to Hargid's tale about his eventful holiday two summers previously.

* * *

_So let's say, theoretically-_

_Big word, your brain must be sore._

_Theoretically, if my best friend-_

_You have friends?_

Harry sighed. Dear lord Tom could be curt when he was in a bad mood.

_I'm sorry about the spilled inkwell. Could you please not insult me for the next minute?_

_I make no promises._

_If my best friend was an inanimate magical object, what would I get them for Christmas?_

_Subtle._

_I'm embracing my inner Gryffindor._

_You do realise I'm a diary? Correct? We had this discussion about red and scarlet draining brain cells._

_I have never given anyone a Christmas present before. So I just thought, might be that stupid childish part of me, since this is the first year I had anyone I would want to give o-_

_Apologies Harry. Perhaps you could promise me to avoid getting yourself into life threatening situations. It would save me a world of headaches._

_Sure. But since somebody is attempting to murder me I'm not sure how affec-_

_I can dream._

* * *

"Checkmate."

Harry stared at the board. Damn. His white chess pieces started yelling at him in annoyance.

Ron grinned innocently as his black pieces cheered. "Another game Harry?"

Percy looked up from his book a few seats away. "I warned you."

Losing is practice he reminded himself. Harry met Ron's grin. "Another."

* * *

Harry cast another warming charm on his cloak, the courtyard was absolutely freezing today. Nevertheless he was determined. He would overcome this hurdle.

"_Aqua Eructo_"

"_Formo"_

Harry watched a little envious as Professor McGonagall masterfully controlled the stream of water from her wand. She waived her wand in elegant circles and under her concentration it spun into a sphere hovering at about Harry's eye level.

Harry concentrated, it was his turn "_Frigidus" _

The sphere of water solidified into a beautiful sphere of ice. Harry quickly began to cast the levitation charm

"Wingardium Levi-"

The ice sphere fell onto the snow and shattered. For the fourth time running. He truly needed to work on his spellcasting speed.

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched as he groaned. "Shall we try again Mr Potter?"

Making ice snowmen was hard.

* * *

Harry woke up well rested and warm. All the same, a little more sleep never hurt. He rolled over and curled up again, content to go back to sleep. He froze and bolted upright. It was Christmas. He grabbed the diary from beneath his pillow. With handwriting still messy from sleep he scrawled.

_Merry Christmas Tom!_

_Merry Christmas Harry._

Harry bet Tom didn't realise he was the first person to ever wish Harry a Merry Christmas.

_I promise to avoid getting myself into life threatening situations. I hope it will save you many headaches._

_Thank you child, however did you guess that is what I wanted for Christmas?_

_I am a person of many hidden skills, you will never know._

_My present is a bit more abstract. Would you like to get it now? We will need to do some walking._

Harry's heart gave a lurch. His first ever Christmas present.

_You got me a Christmas present?_

_Of a sort. You will need to keep it a secret._

Harry glanced over his dorm to Ron. He seemed fast asleep. All the early morning spell practicing with Tom had made Harry a relatively early riser. He probably had an hour before Ron woke up.

_I understand. So we can go now? Ron's still asleep._

_Whenever you are ready._

* * *

Harry nearly forgot to put shoes on in his haste to run to the seventh floor. Clutching the diary in one hand while jogging he reached the tapestry depicting the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach trolls ballet and turned to face the opposing wall. This was certainly the most bewildering set of directions Tom had ever given him.

He began to walk left, thinking about needing a hidden place practicing spells with Tom. Just like Tom had instructed he turned right then left again. He turned back to the wall – but it wasn't a wall anymore. There was a door. Okay. Harry walked over, opened the door and gawked over the vast room inside.

_Wh-_

_Welcome to the Come and Go room. Merry Christmas. _

* * *

Ron was already up and gone through a large pile of presents, judging by the paper strewn everywhere, when Harry made it back to the dorm room an hour later.

"Hey Harry. Where were you?"

Er. Harry hadn't really thought of an excuse, he had been very preoccupied with Tom's mindboggling gift.

"I wanted to send a letter." Harry lied very clumsily. Thankfully Ron wasn't the best on picking up cues.

"Thanks for the chocolate! I'm heading down to breakfast, see you there?"

"Yeah sure."

"Have fun opening your presents!" What? Harry stared at the end of his own bed as Ron left the dormitory. He hadn't even noticed the small pile of packages when he left before, so caught up with Tom's mysterious instructions. He crossed the room to his bed, sat down still a little surprised and decided to open the smallest package first.

_We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. _Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece. Harry couldn't resist a giggle at just how ridiculous it was.

The next two presents were candy from Ron and Hermione. After them Harry reached a smooth case. Harry opened it up to see a set of glasses. They had rectangular frames and dark green edges. Harry stared. He delicately pulled them out for a closer look. They seemed to be high quality. Harry remembered seeing similar glasses like them in the windows of muggle shops watching on through his own third-hand sticky-taped glasses. There was a note in familiar handwriting beneath them in the case.

_I have seen you squinting in class. These will be the right prescription, which your current glasses are not. They cannot be summoned while being worn and I have also magically reinforced them so that when you next run into danger they will not be easily broken. I ask that you do not reveal who you received these from, I would prefer not being accused of bias by the school board._ _Merry Christmas Mr Potter._

He removed his third-hand glasses and carefully placed his new ones on staring at the far side of the dorm room. They fit his face perfectly. He blinked as the far side of the room sharpened. It was so much clearer. He replaced them with his old glasses and alternated the pairs a few times. Harry hadn't even realised how inaccurate his old pair had been. He took the new glasses off again to look at closely, they truly were elegant.

All he could think was that he hadn't even gotten Professor McGonagall a Christmas present.

It took his heart a few minutes to shake itself out of a stupor, Harry gently put the glasses back on and reached for the last parcel on the bed. It was very light. He unwrapped it. A fluid and silvery grey cloth went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Harry spotted a note written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. _

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

He picked up the cloth, only to stare as his hand disappeared beneath it. Harry wriggled his fingers, a bit concerned by the fact he couldn't see his hand. They felt fine. He stood up and threw the cloth around his shoulders. He looked down at his feet, only to see the wooden floorboards. After a disorientating moment where Harry nearly stumbled over - having your feet disappear was strange - he ran to the mirror to stare at only his head, his body nowhere to be seen.

Well. That could be _very_ beneficial.

* * *

As he reached the Great Hall for breakfast he was still in awe over his most unexpected series of presents. Just yesterday he hadn't expect to receive anything at all. He headed over to the Gryffindor table.

"Col glasss Hary!" Ron's voice drew Harry out of his thoughts as he approached the Weasleys. "Wo re thy fro?" he asked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Harry murmured. "Just a relative." He traded Christmas greetings with the rest of the read-heads who all had jumpers with their first initial on the front, even a disgruntled Percy.

He had a lovely breakfast with the Weasley clan and after he had eaten plenty he walked up to the High Table, greeting Hagrid he moved across to where a strict Professor sat.

"Merry Christmas Professor."

"Merry Christmas Mr Potter. Those are a fine set of glasses you have there."

Harry grinned. "They are perfect. I didn't even realise how much I needed them. I don't quite know how the buyer got my prescription correct, I don't even know it myself."

Professor McGonagall smiled. "The buyer must have many talents."

Harry thought his grin couldn't get any bigger. "Indeed Professor."

* * *

AN: So I was having a bit of fun this chapter and decided plot was too difficult (well there is a little bit of plot, but not much). I hope you don't mind if this chapter seemed a little silly. ^^ I am going off the assumption Diary!Tom has no clue that a horcrux was hidden in the room of hidden things. Also I deliberated for a long time over the glasses, but decided in the end that if they Dursleys never bought Harry a new piece of clothing in their lives, then it was highly unlikely that they would buy him proper glasses. I hope everyone doesn't find this chapter too silly, this story is going to become fairly dark with time, so I am cramming my fun in now.

Thank you for the reviews! I do wish you anon's out there had accounts so I could thank you personally. c:

Tal


	9. Chapter 8

Harry had a wonderful Christmas day even with half-formed plans badgering him. The half-formed plans did lead to more than one snowball hitting his face but who wouldn't be distracted upon discovering a cloak that made the user invisible? After the rest of the castle stumbled off to bed sleepily stuffed full of good food Harry sat awake fully dressed on top of his bed writing to Tom patiently. Eleven o'clock passed and Harry decided it was unlikely he would encounter anyone, he bid Tom goodnight and picked up his new invisibility cloak. He had some research to do.

Casting a self-silencing charm to be safe, Harry crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole. He drew the cloak securely around himself and made his way to the library. The library was pitch-black and very eerie. He brought his wand out from beneath the cloak.

"_Lumos" _

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. For the entire holidays, amongst completing his homework, Harry had been searching the normal section of the library to no avail. By receiving the cloak, regardless of its enigmatic origins, he could finally search the restricted section.

Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these rows of books from the rest of the library, he held up his wand to read the titles on the first shelf. The only problem was, most of the books at first glance either didn't have titles or they were written in such obscure tongues Harry couldn't even identify the language. Harry was rather paranoid but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be. He really hadn't thought this night adventure through very well.

He took a deep breath. There was some titles in English, this could still work. Harry patiently began to search through the shelves. The Restricted Section clock read two in the morning when Harry finally encountered a promising book. He pulled the heavy silver bound tome out of the bookshelf and gently let it fall open on his knee pointing his wand down to read.

The book didn't seem to care that he was gentle. A shrill, hair-raising shriek tore through the silence, the book began to scream. Harry snapped it shut, but the damage was done and the scream went on. Harry stumbled backwards letting it drop on the ground. He stood still, rooted to the spot for what seemed like an eternity before quickly grabbing the heavy book and heaved it back to its spot in the shelf. The screaming stopped, but his ears still rung and Harry heard footsteps.

"_Nox_" Harry whispered frantically extinguishing his wand and began to move for the entrance, ducking past Filch on his way out of the Library. He began to run when he thought he was out of Filch's hearing range. Harry skidded to a halt next to a suit of armour as realised he had absolutely no inkling where he was. He didn't even kniow there _was _a suit of armour on the forth floor until now.

He heard footsteps behind him in horror and spun around. Filch must know a short cut.

"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them." Snape said confidently. His horror grew.

As Harry stood still in his horror they walked around the bend in the corridor ahead, straight towards him.

Harry was invisible and have a silencing spell on but he was certainly still a solid object. It was a narrow corridor they would certainly run into him if he didn't get out of the way. Harry turned to look down the corridor behind him frantically. He didn't want to risk running down the corridor away from them, if he tripped on the cloak or his feet showed he was doomed. He backed away quickly and spotted an ajar door to his left. He quickly slipped inside, the two adults walked straight past. To be safe, Harry shut the door behind him and brought his wand up to it whispering.

"_Colloportus" _

If anyone tried, they would assume it was a locked unused room. He decided he would wait an hour before going back, to make sure they had lost him. He turn to gaze over the room. It looked exactly like an unused classroom except for a large mirror, which stuck out oddly amongst the stacked chairs and desks.

It was a grand mirror which made it all the more out of place. It was as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame. There was an inscription carved around the top.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_

Harry's panic dimmed as Snape and Filch's footsteps faded and curiosity took a hold of him. Harry approached the mirror to stand in front of it.

He stared, inside the mirror was himself, staring back at him, which was odd because the morning had proven that normal mirrors didn't see through the invisibility cloak. It only got stranger, as the Harry staring back at him was not the scared scrawny child hiding under an invisibility cloak. No he looked composed, taller, stronger and he wasn't alone. He turned around to stare at the empty room behind him, to make sure he wasn't going crazy. He looked in the mirror again while pulling off the cloak, letting it drop carelessly to the ground.

A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air - she and the other two existed only in the mirror. She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her green eyes, her bright green eyes were just like his, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. She was crying - smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy just like Harry.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his breathing fogged up his mirrored reflection-but-not-reflection.

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"

He turned and properly saw the last person standing off to the side of his parents in the mirror. This person he recognised instantly in their Slytherin Hogwarts robes. Tom Riddle had neat hair, steel blue eyes and a small charming grin tugging the edges of his lips up as he stared at Harry, exactly like the handsome Head Boy photo from the Hogwarts graduation registry.

"Tom?"

As Harry stared over the three people in the mirror in silence for what must have been at least a few minutes he began to fell joy. However, as he cast his eyes back to Tom his stomach began to turn. Tom loked exactly like his resigstry photo. Exactly the same. There was not a single difference. Which meant... it was an image. A photo. They wasn't any actual people in the mirror. They were just photos. The little joy Harry had found only minutes beforehand quickly manifested into deep crushing grief.

The vision the mirror showed him something which would never happen. Tom was a diary, an object, not his diary's first owner. Lily and James Potter were dead. Harry felt his stomach grow cold and he backed away from the mirror. His didn't bother to wait the hour he'd originally planned, he turned and fled the room away from those haunting welcoming eyes.

"_Alohomora" _

* * *

Harry stumbled out into the courtyard still covered by the invisibility cloak and collapsed onto one of the benches undercover, his breath coming out as white mist as he watched snow fall gently in large flakes over the open courtyard. He didn't notice the icy temperature or his body beginning to shiver.

Harry couldn't eradicate the illusion from his head, the cruel beauty of things he could never possess. He was ordinarily so good at ignoring his lost family. Seeing a real, living, breathing Tom there, his best friend in flesh had been the final blow.

Belonging. The thing he had wished for on shooting stars before he realised wishes didn't come true. Harry desperately tried to slow his shaky breathing, to rid himself of the hot blurry wetness in the corner of his eyes by blinking rapidly.

The twisted perfect mirage would haunt his dreams.

Harry laughed hollowly, staring out over the still courtyard as he drew his knees to his chest. This year's Christmas had just joined the rest of them – a day to remind him of all the things he had never had.

Harry remained curled up on the bench in the silent courtyard until his limbs went numb from cold.

* * *

Harry woke up with a flash of green light, utterly exhausted, in his four-poster bed precisely a week after Christmas. He had learnt over the past week he immensely preferred nightmares where he fell from his broomstick during the Quidditch match over dreams where he was being hugged by his mother or nightmares of green flashing light and cold laughter. Dreams in which he fell and died didn't hurt after he woke up.

Harry felt like the innocent looking mirror had ripped off a bandage and poured salt on a wound he hadn't realised he possessed. His life wasn't anything new. Lily and James Potter had been dead for years. Tom had always been a diary. Why did Harry care now?

Sadly about three days into the dreadful week Harry had been having, he had realised exactly why it all mattered to him so much now.

Before summer he had been told his parents were good-for-nothing alcoholics who died in a car accident because he meant nothing to them. He now knew they loved him and had been murdered by a Dark Lord.

Before summer he didn't have a single friend. Now his best friend was an inanimate magical artefact who Harry would never be able to talk to or laugh with.

Harry realised he had been distracting himself through learning magic, hoping it would solve his ache for companionship. An ache for people who understood him, who he could trust. He really did like Hermione and his other Gryffindor friends but did they truthfully know a single thing about him?

Harry had promptly decided, after realising all of this, that self-analysis _utterly sucked_.

Harry groaned out aloud and rubbed his eyes, before rolling over to get out of bed. He was not looking forward to the second half of term.

As Harry wearily pulled his socks on he remembered something else. Someone was still trying to murder him_. Lovely_.

* * *

Harry felt a lot better once the second half of term actually began. The classes, homework and exhausting Quidditch practices left him with less time to relieve the events of the winter break. He had surprised himself with how much he had missed studying with Hermione as well.

It was two weeks into the second half of term before Harry finally worked up the courage to mention the mirror to Tom. Tom had immediately discerned something was wrong with him the day after Christmas but no amount of persuading from Tom had made Harry tell him what had occurred that night. He just hadn't been able to work up the strength. How would he explain why he had found the mirror in the first place? How would he explain what he saw in the mirror?

It took Harry a few days, but he had worked out a suitable way of talking to Tom about the mirror. The best lie was always mostly the truth.

_So you stumbled upon an enchanted mirror in a spare classroom yesterday on your way back from our practicing?_

_Yes. I got lost on my way back from the Come and Go room, I heard Snape and I didn't want to run into him while I was supposed to be in Astronomy. It had a message engraved on the top, from what I remember: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafr oyton whsi_

The diary was silent.

_Tom?_

_One does not simply stumble upon the Mirror of Erised._

Harry took a deep breath, praying Tom hadn't caught on.

_You know what the mirror is? How? Well, you know practically everything I suppose. What does the engraving say?_

_Yes. I know because it should be sitting in a museum somewhere or in the depths of a research facility. It should not be abandoned in a classroom at Hogwarts. The door wasn't locked?_

Harry released his breath. If Tom had picked up on his lie, he hadn't pointed it out.

_No the door wasn't even shut. It was ajar._

_Was there anyone else in the room? _

_No… Well I didn't see anyone. A lot of strange things have been happening this year._

_Harry that is the largest understatement of the 20__th__ century. I will outline it again for you. Would you like dot points?_

_Sure. I have the feeling you have been waiting to use dot points._

_1) There is a Cerberus on the third floor with no other protection than a locked door. 2) An ancient magical artefact appears in a random classroom without even a locked door. 3) A Mountain Troll with less brains than a mouse somehow skipped past the millennium-old most powerful wards of Britain and happened into the Hogwarts dungeons. 4) There was a murder attempt on a student during a Quidditch match and the Headmaster didn't even call for an investigation._

_It's Dumbledore. If he cared about my well-being I wouldn't be going back to the Dursleys. Hogwarts has the most powerful wards in Britain?_

_Wards? I am pleased to see you picked up on the most irrelevant details. What would the brain cells you possess tell you about these instances?_

_That they aren't coincidental and the Headmaster knows more than he lets on._

_It's always reassuring to note that you do have some intelligence. _

_I should have gone into Ravenclaw just so you couldn't insult me as much. But what can I do knowing they aren't coincidences?_

_Nothing. Would you prefer ignorance?_

_No._

_Good answer. Ignorance isn't bliss. I did not answer your earlier question, I hope you will answer mine in response. The engraving is backwards; I show not your face but your heart's desire. What did you see Harry?_

_I don't want to talk about it._

_Harry?_

_Please leave it alone Tom._

_Do let me know if you randomly stumble across anymore extraordinary one-of-a-kind ancient magical artefacts won't you?_

_If I survive my next Quidditch match. Professor Snape is refereeing._

* * *

Harry glumly stared down at his egg on toast feeling sick, his migraine was still hammering away behind his eyelids and exhaustion seeping through his bones. Harry didn't remember ever getting a headache as bad as the one he had woken with this morning. The odd smell in Professor Quirrell's classroom that gave him headaches through Defence Against the Dark Arts was not even a tenth as bad as this migraine. The migraine combined with his nerves left him feeling horrible. Would he ever be able to eat before a Quidditch game?

"Harry you really should eat. I know Snape is refereeing but the only thing worse than dying on a full stomach is dying on an empty stomach." Harry managed to crack a smile.

"Cheers Ron."

"I still think you should just act like you pulled a muscle." Hermione added her input, looking a bit concerned.

"Or just actually break your leg, we could push you down some stairs." Ron offered with complete sincerity

To help him by killing himself before he even had to worry about being murdered? Harry was completely distracted from his headache for a moment as he stared at Ron in disbelief. Ron Weasley certainly made Harry comprehend Tom's attitude towards Gryffindors. He ignored a sliver of disdain which crept through his mind, Ron was just trying to help.

Harry cracked a grin. "You have quite the obsession with breaking my leg Ron."

Ron grinned around his mouthful of cereal. "It was Hermione who suggested it."

Hermione huffed placing her cutlery down on the table, clearly ready to debate the point "I suggested to _pretend_ to break his leg."

As the two began to banter away Harry felt like someone was watching him. He glanced around, his gaze halting on the Head Table before he quickly looked back at his plate in disgust as the twinkling blue eyes moved on. Of course there was one pressing issue in his life he hadn't even begun to deal with. It was January.

Harry had the 30th of June circled on his calendar, most of the dormitory calendars did. However where Dean Thomas's calendar had smiling stick figures cheering HOLIDAYS on the 30th of June, Harry's had simply a single circle around the date in black ink, which really shouldn't look ominous - but to Harry, it really really was.

It was bitterly amusing he found having attempts on his life less ominous than a summer with his _family_.

* * *

AN: I think everyone will be able to have some ideas to what Harry was attempting to research so I didn't feel the need to spell it out.

I love having a cheerful chapter and then chucking heaps on angst in the next one. ;)

An amusing thing I discovered in the reviews from the last chapter is that of all the ones commenting on canon similarities/differences half said they could really see changes occurring, the other half asked when changes would start happening. For people asking the latter, I am trying my best to attempt a snowball path. The snowball hasn't grown very big yet. As it grows bigger, the changes will be more significant. We are only mid-way through the first year. C:

Also sorry this took a week to get out - university and work got in my way (can't wait for the holidays). Exams are soon. NotReady/10

Thank you for the follows, favourite and especially the lovely reviews. :D

Tal


	10. Chapter 9

Harry practically pranced to the change rooms much to the amusement of the rest of the team. They probably thought he was delighted by the win, and as much of a brilliant bonus setting a new record for fastest-caught-snitch was, Harry was truly just happy he had gotten through the Quidditch match without his broom being cursed. Or, in the wider realm of things, without anyone trying to murder him.

Beginning to get changed he ensured the rest of the team didn't notice the new wand holster on his arm as he quickly changed into charcoal black robes. Harry still didn't feel at all guilty over trading his signature for a wand holster. If the sixth year girl hadn't deemed a wand holster more valuable than The-Boy-Who-Lived's signature then they clearly had very different priorities in life.

The holly wand resting reassuringly against his forearm had allowed Harry to concentrate on the game wholly, instead of being held super aware of the crowd watching. It may be a problem that he now associated crowds with a high likelihood of potential murderers. But, Harry reasoned to counter himself, logically more people did increase the statistical probability of a murderer.

He shook himself out of that frankly depressing train of thought and looked down at his jittery adrenaline filled fingers. Perhaps he could avoid some of the celebrations and go for a proper fly to clear his mind. Letting the team know he would be back soon for the celebrations, much to the disappointment of the twins, he grasped his broom firmly as he slung his bag over his shoulder and wandered out the back entrance of the locker rooms, which opened to expanses of grass bordering the forbidden forest.

* * *

Harry pushed off the ground, the feeling of freedom just beautiful as his first time on a broom. He spun in a few quick circles and just enjoyed the joyous feeling he discovered through flying.

When he finally had nothing nagging him but the whistle of wind he found himself border of the forbidden forest, Harry squinted across the grounds. There was nobody in sight. He grinned and began to drift even closer to the sudden edge of the forest. The grass suddenly stopped and woods began. Harry pondered that there must be a spell holding the forest from growing closer to the school. No forest would so suddenly halt in its growth otherwise.

Harry glanced out over towards the school again. He had been cautious for the past few weeks, researching curses and learning shields. And spending time with Ron and Hermione. So he had been stretching his so-called Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff traits. Surely it would be alright to have a closer look at the forest? His inner Gryffindor traits needed to be used now so he didn't go chasing after mountain trolls.

Was curiosity even a Gryffindor trait? Well, curiosity killed the cat, and lions were basically big cats so… Harry lost himself in thought, sloppily hovering next to the forest. While debating if curiosity could kill lions as well as cats he spotted a menacing hooded figure striding down the steps from the school and tilting his broom Harry dived into the high branches of the nearest tree.

Snape's pace quickened the further from the school he strode but a little disbelievingly Harry watched through the tree branches as Snape walked away from where Harry was and over to another edge of the forest. As he neared the dividing treeline he was practically running.

Harry's mind flew fast as he ran through his options. Should he follow a fully grown adult that may want to kill him into a forest? No, was the short answer. However it could possibly be a chance for him to discover what on earth was actually going on a Hogwarts this year and determine if Snape really was trying to kill him. Harry came to a decision and vowed not to tell Tom of this entire misadventure - no matter what the consequences. Tom would somehow find a way to destroy him for doing something so utterly stupid - and this most certainly unwise. Harry grasped fumbling at his bag quickly as Snape reached the edge of the forest running. He pulled out his invisibility cloak and after a few seconds of awkward positioning quickly tilted his nimbus two-thousand across the top of the Forbidden Forest treeline.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided and landed noiselessly in a towering solid tree trying to see through the leaves. He couldn't see anyone but the voices were quite clear. It was Snape and of all people, Professor Quirrell. Harry resisted the urge to sneak closer along the branches, even in his invisibility cloak he did not dare risk being spotted. He would have to content himself with hearing the voices.

Quirrell was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"…anted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry quickly realised he was very out-of-the-loop. Sorcerer's Stone? Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

The Cerberus. It had to be. It was Hagrid's. Get past it? To… the Sorcerer's Stone? Whatever that was.

"B-b-but Severus, I -"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape.

"I-I don't know what you-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly and Harry missed a bit of the conversation but he tuned back in to hear Snape say, "-fun with the troll, your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

Wait. _Quirrell's _troll? Which meant-

"B-but I d-d-don't -"

-that it had been Quirrell's distraction to try find a way past the three-headed dog. Well, according to Snape but-

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

-Snape would know because he had somehow encountered Quirrell on the third floor on Halloween and got bitten by the giant dog. Quirrell, who had conveniently been unconscious in the Great Hall as the rest of the teaching body ran to the Dungeon, leaving him to make his way to the third floor as soon as the hall was evacuated.

Harry realised there was silence throughout the forest. The conversation was apparently over. Harry made sure he was completely covered by the cloak and fled back towards the castle on his broom.

* * *

Harry stared down at blurry paragraphs, not even focusing his eyes on the book anymore. He could go to Tom for further advice but really, he had found what he needed to know. Thankfully he was in the far corner of the library, nobody would disturb him. Curfew was approaching but he had much bigger problems as he stared down at 'The Most Famous Magical Objects in the Known World'.

The Philosopher's Stone was on the third floor of Hogwarts. Snape was under the impression Quirrell was trying to steal it. Snape was also trying to steal it. Two of his professors were trying to steal an object that could make them immortal and make gold. Harry truthfully could understand why they were attempting to steal it.

_Why _was the singular most coveted legendary magical object residing on the British Isles hidden behind a trapdoor in Hogwarts?

_Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all_. Snape's words whispered at him.

_Why_ did the entire teaching staff know about it? It wouldn't be kept a secret. There was too many ways the secret could get out. Yet Dumbledore, the friend of Flamel who had been given the stone to protect, had been telling people it was under his care. _Oh_. The secret was supposed to get out.

_Trap_door. Harry gave a disbelieving chuckle as part of the puzzle fell into place.

But who was the trap for? And what should Harry do with this information?

* * *

Nothing, is what Harry did with his information. He didn't even tell Tom. He was almost certain he had drawn the correct inference and Tom would probably stop talking to him after hearing he had flown into the Forbidden Forest following a potentially murderous teacher.

Well, he did take one action from his new information. Over the next few weeks Harry watched Quirrell even more closely than he had ever observed Snape. Because unlike Professor Snape, he would have never suspected Professor Quirrell of being able to steal a book, let alone the Philosopher's Stone. Now every action the professor made seemed fake. Harry couldn't help but second guess every stutter, every fumble. The Professor who stumbled around his classroom stuttering over the word 'vampire' had managed to bring a mountain troll into the school. Either he possessed fluky luck, or he was a brilliant actor. Harry hoped for the former but the latter was much more likely.

The fact Harry had never suspected the Professor of anything, made him more hazardous than Snape. After the Forbidden Forest meeting Quirrell had even earned a spot on Harry's list of people-that-may-be-trying-to-murder-me. If only because he was so dangerous. He was distracted from musing about Quirrell yet again by a sharp pain behind his eyes, which quickly dropped back down to a persisting migraine.

Harry groaned softly, dropping his quill and sagging forward in his chair until his forehead was resting against 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'. He closed his eyes trying to breathe deeply. Goddamnit his head hurt.

"Harry?" Hermione's concerned question pulled his head back up off the book and he rubbed tiredly at his forehead.

Ron cleared his throat sympathetically "Headache got worse again? Maybe we should stop studying, exams are still six whole weeks away." He looked longingly out the library window at the bright blue sky.

Hermione snorted, always an amusing noise when originating from Hermione "Harry's migraine is not the only reason you want to stop studying. You also want an excuse so you can go laze around the lake."

Ron shrugged with a grin and didn't try to disagree.

Hermione turned her attention back towards him. "Have you been to Madam Pomfrey for a headache-relieving potion yet?"

Harry winced and Hermione sighed. Before she could fully open her mouth to rebuke him Ron interrupted.

"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his overcoat.

"Just lookin," he said, in a shifty voice that caught the trio's interest at once. "And what are you lot up to?"

"Hello, just studying for exams." Said Hermione politely and Harry realised that because she was away for holidays she had never properly met Hagrid. He quickly raised his hands to gesture and began introductions.

"Hagrid this is Hermione, Hermione, Ron and I got to know Hagrid over the winter break. He knows heaps about dangerous magical creatures."

Hermione instantly brightened and engaged Hagrid in a conversation about merpeople. Harry glanced at Ron, who looked thoughtful. Harry went back over the previous conversation in his head a froze, surely Ron wouldn't have-

Ron looked triumphant and opened his mouth. "Hagrid!"

Hermione and Hagrid both looked over, conversation on merpeople halted.

"What do you know about three-headed giant dogs?" Hagrid dropped the book he had been hiding behind his back, which Harry absently noted was on dragons. Harry internally groaned, how careless of him to bring up dangerous magical creatures.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

Fluffy. Harry thought back to the Cerberus. It certainly hadn't looked very fluffy to him.

"Fluffy?" Asked Hermione voicing the trio's thoughts.

"Yeah, he's mine. I bought him off a Greek chap I met in the pub last year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-"

"Yes?" said Ron eagerly.

Harry resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. The last thing he needed was a curious Ron. He had been so inquisitive about the trapdoor for weeks after Halloween.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," Ron protested and even Hermione nodded from across the table in agreement. "whatever is on the third floor behind the trapdoor is in dange-"

Thankfully the three of them were so caught up they didn't realise Harry wasn't contributing to the conversation at all.

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. The library was crowed in the weeks approaching exams but thankfully everyone appeared out of hearing range. "Don't go shouting about the third floor! It's dangerous. Snape isn't going to steal anything. You forget Fluffy, and you forget what it's guarding, that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel-"

Hagrid halted looking furious with himself. Harry wished this was all a bad dream.

"Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione piped in. "Isn't he famous? I've read about him I'm sure of it. Is the Cerberus guarding-"

Hagrid shushed her looking even more frantic. "Listen. Come and see me later, I'm not promising I'll tell yah anything, mind, but don't go rabbiting about it in here, students aren't supposed to know. They'll think I've told yah-" He glanced around the library again in concern before shuffling off.

There was silence at the table. Harry decided if this was a bad dream he would have woken up by now.

"Do you know what Fluffy is protecting?" Ron asked Hermione.

Hermione frowned. "No but I think Hagrid thinks I know. Honestly, I was just going to ask if whatever the Cerberus is hiding belongs to Flamel. I swear I have heard the name Flamel before…" She trailed off contemplative.

Ron seemed thoughtful again. Which bode for bad news if he put together more of the puzzle. A change of topic was in order. "What was the book he was hiding behind his back?" Harry questioned innocently.

Ron leapt to his feet. Harry internally grinned. Conversation moved on to safer topics.

"Do you think it had anything to do with what is being protected on the third floor?" Ron pondered looking excited.

Damn. Once Ron got wind of a mystery he didn't let it go quickly.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," Ron moved off.

* * *

Ron came back a few minutes later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! I think they might have one protecting whatever is on the third floor!"

Hermione huffed. "Really Ron? They wouldn't be able to hide a _dragon_ in a school."

No they wouldn't. At least a fully grown dragon. But. "Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever talked to him" said Harry absentmindedly.

"Let's finish up here and go see him." Ron eagerly planned.

"Yes that would be best. Then when we get back tonight I can look up Nicolas Flamel." Hermione instantly agreed. They turned to look at him, waiting for him to settle the idea.

"I think I am going to go get that headache-relieving potion from Madam Pomfrey. I think we should leave this alone." A month or so ago, before the Forbidden Forest, he may have agreed. However now he honestly did believe it would be best to leave it all alone although he had the luxury of knowing it was all a trap. Whoever was after the stone would get caught by Dumbledore. Harry considered telling them both. But, they may get angry because he didn't tell them earlier. He would stay quiet for now.

Hermione and Ron both frowned at his decision. They tried to convince him for the next hour but Harry refused to take part. He had magic to practice with Tom and the headaches really were becoming a hassle.

Two hours later Ron and Hermione were knocking on the door to the Gamekeepers hut, meanwhile Harry was discussing stress headaches with Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

AN: Oh dear this took a while to get out. Many apologies. Thankfully exam season is nearly over. I didn't even get time around to responding to reviews. I will remedy that now.

In regards to the chapter I do wonder what people thought of the forest scene. Harry did one small thing differently, which lead to hearing the word troll. I wonder if anyone knows the scene well enough to pick out the change. ;)

Thank you for the follows favourites and most importantly the reviews!

Tal

(Last note; Sometimes I seriously cannot wait to leave cannon behind. It is more difficult to writing so close to cannon than I would have anticipated before beginning this story. The next chapter will divert from cannon more than this one at least. ;D)


	11. Chapter 10

_So basically during a muggleborn student's first year at Hogwarts a ministry official goes to their house of residence and puts up advanced wards to ensure absolutely no magic is done within the household. It even registers bursts of accidental magic, I think if I am reading this correctly. So not only are the wands charmed with the trace like when you went to school with your last owner but now they also monitor all magic within your house. I think it is so if you took magical objects home like a broomstick they could detect you using it. More importantly would they detect a diary?_

_No, I am not an object of enough power. Interesting. I do hope this won't be a problem._

_Why would it be a problem?_

_You have done a lot more accidental magic than you would first think Harry. For example, we have discussed your diet while living with your relatives. Did you ever wonder why you didn't get scurvy?_

_Magic?_

_Magic can work phenomenal things for your health. Wizards have a lifespan that nearly doubles that of a muggle because of it._

_Okay getting off topic. Basically: no magic whatsoever only the Dursley's land and no magic using my wand. And since I'm a first year there is no way for me to do anything about a ward on the house or the charm on my wand. So what do I do if they find out I cannot use magic?_

_I am not a seer Harry. Nor do I have much idea what I could teach you. _

_So if it comes down to it, I will have to use magic in the house?_

_So if it comes down to what exactly? Why are you so concerned about them finding out about the restrictions Harry?_

_Before when I couldn't do magic when I was younger they were almost certain they were 'stamping magic out of me'. Now they know I am a proper freak and if uncle Vernon realises I am defenceless-_

_-Harry I was under the impression they had never lifted a hand against you. You said they just called you names and didn't feed you. I need you to be honest wit-_

_Don't_

_Harr-_

_Please. It was just once. Okay? I'm overreacting. Don't you like me using my self-preservation traits? I need help for if they do find out. _

_We will be returning to this topic eventually. _

_But not today._

_Yes, not today. Now use those reading skills and find out the penalties of being caught using your wand and/or performing magic in the household._

Harry put Tom away securely in the bottom of his bag and had nearly finished an extensive tedious chapter on legal rights on use of a wand in a registered muggle area when Hermione and Ron reached his quiet corner in the library. Harry had not seen a glimpse of the two of them since they left for Hagrid's hut the day beforehand. Subtlety sliding his book cover-down beneath his transfiguration books he took a look at their faces. Hermione seemed worried, from the pinched downturn of her mouth whereas Ron looked excited. More excited than after the adventure with Fluffy back in their second week.

"Hi have you guys started the transfiguration essay? I'm having trouble finding good books."

They slid into spots across from him on the creaky old desk and rather than replying Hermione blurted out, "Don't you want to know what we found out at Hagrid's?"

Harry winced. "Not particularly. I get the feeling it isn't anything good." He admitted honestly.

"Guess what! Hagrid has a dragon eg-" Hermione shushed the red-head, frantically glancing around. Thankfully Harry's favourite spot in the library was near a far corner, surrounded by Arithmacy books and thus was very deserted.

Harry wanted to be surprised. "Where did he get it?"

Hermione sighed "He won it in a pub card game last week and is trying to hatch it. A dragon. In his_ wooden_ house."

"You could act a little more surprised." Grumbled Ron good-naturedly.

Harry arched an eyebrow (a skill he had picked up from Professor McGonagall over the holidays) "Are you surprised?"

Ron frowned. "Well now that you mention it, no. Remember his stories about his holiday in Romania?"

Harry couldn't contain a little shudder. "So did he tell you anything about the third floor?"

There was a pause, a second long eye contact between Ron and Hermione.

"Nope said nothing important. Just to keep our knowledge to ourselves and that it was all under control."

And Tom said _Harry_ was a bad liar.

"Really, he was acting as though we were going to go around blabbering about a Cerberus and something valuable protected on the third floor."

Harry just for a moment he deliberated what would happen if he did start a rumour or two about the Philosopher's Stone presence on the third floor. He imagined the chaos with the students trying to get past the trapdoor, the response from the parents and possibly even Dumbledore's potential sacking for endangering students. Harry unconsciously grinned a bit maniacally.

Hermione coughed and Harry's grin died as he became more serious. "Well Hagrid is right. I doubt Snape would be able to get past anything Dumbledore made anyway. The Headmaster is said to be the most powerful wizard of our time after all."

Ron nodded distractedly and Hermione grabbed the red-head's arm, speaking as she pulled them both to their feet. "Hagrid said he will let us all know when the egg hatches, if you want to come? It would be useful to have someone else to help convince Hagrid this is a bad idea."

"Definitely." It was a risk, but Harry in truth liked the Gameskeeper and didn't want him arrested more than he cared about the small possibility of getting caught. Hagrid loved dangerous creatures more than was healthy but his heart was gold.

"We have to go do research for charms. See you at dinner then?" queried Ron as the duo began to move away from the table.

Harry opened his mouth to agree, but hesitated, it was time to be shrewd. "Need some help? I have already finished our next charms homework," carefully morphing his expression to confusion "in fact I thought Hermione had finished as well?"

Hermione winced "Just fixing up some last minute points. Bye Harry."

"Bye." The duo speed off. What in Godric's name had Hagrid told the two of them about the third floor?

Harry rubbed at his forehead, the persistent headache returning. The potions had helped, but maybe a visit to the restricted section under his cloak tonight was in order. Harry had finally found a counter-curse to silence the books when they were taken off the shelves and opened. If the headaches and exhaustion were anything to go by, he may have less time to work with than formerly believed.

* * *

Harry had _almost _forgotten that Hagrid was illegally hatching a dragon egg when the note came at breakfast a few days later stating two words: _It's hatching._

Hermione and he tried convincing Ron it was a bad idea to skip Herbology as they walked down a hallway to said class. Hermione thought they shouldn't go at all, Harry thought they should go during the morning break.

"Ron seriously, Hermione is right. If we don't show up to class it will be even more suspicious."

"How many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to-"

"Shut up!" Harry hissed cutting Hermione off. Why had they been talking at all about this in a busy area? Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Judging by the look on his face, far too much. Harry's stomach did a flip, the other two didn't seem to realise the severity of the situation as they argued all the way to Herbology despite his cautions about being overheard. In the end, Hermione and he swapped opinions.

"I thought you wanted to go in the morning break Harry? I am agreeing with you now."

"That was before Malfoy overheard us. If he sees any of us leaving he will follow us down and Hagrid will get caught."

"We will be careful."

"How? The path to Hagrid's hut is just grass, nothing to hide behind. I'm going to send Hagrid a note warning him about Malfoy as soon as Herbology is over."

"Don't bother. Me and Hermione will tell him when we go in the morning break without you."

"Ronald!"

The trio came to a halt just outside their assigned greenhouse. Harry rubbed his eyes, exhausted. "Look I really am sorry I'm not going. I don't want Hagrid getting caught."

Ron heaved a sigh "All good mate. Me and Hermione will be careful okay? Warn him about Malfoy and everything."

"Make sure nobody follows you. Hagrid wouldn't be the only one getting into trouble." He hinted.

Hermione hummed thoughtfully "Because Harry Potter has never done something risky that may get him into trouble." She tapped her chin.

Ron gave a chortle. Harry grinned and pushed the red-head. "Good luck." He left the duo and entered the greenhouse jogging over to join Neville.

* * *

Hermione and Ron looked grim when he met them for afternoon classes and Harry knew they hadn't taken his words before Herbology to heart. He didn't manage to pull them aside until straight after dinner and they explained themselves Harry tried desperately to keep his temper in check. He had _told_ them.

"Malfoy saw everything didn't he?."

The other two nodded in synchronisation, which would be comical, if not for how serious the situation was.

"He hasn't told anyone?" Harry was skeptical.

Ron shrugged "I figure if he had told anyone we would currently being yelled at."

* * *

The smile lurking on Malfoy's face on Tuesday morning during breakfast made Ron and Hermione nervous. Harry on the other hand, was relieved. Malfoy hadn't gone to a staff member. The platinum blond was being petty, trying to make a power play quite resembling the much more advanced power plays Harry had observed between older Slytherin students in the library. Malfoy was convinced he had the upper hand and could deal the final blow at any instant. Thanks to this childish display of arrogance the trio had been given time to convince Hagrid to let the dragon go. The blonde would wait for an opportunity in which he saw to do the most damage possible. Well, as long as the three of them kept their heads down and didn't challenge the Slytherin directly.

It was times like these Harry appreciated why the hat nearly placed him in Slytherin. Harry admired the way the house was run through its hierarchy-like system. They also knew how to keep house problems within their walls. Harry knew there must be fights just like in the other three houses but Slytherin had a masterful way of keeping conflicts in the dungeons, not out under the eyes of the rest of the school. By Merlin he even held admiration for the Slytherin way of insulting, it was, like everything else in the house, a test of intelligence and skill.

But, attitudes on blood purity really did make things a little awkward. Harry enjoyed observing the Slytherin house, but was still quite glad he had not been placed there. The Slytherin house was amusing to watch but unpleasant to be a part of unless were at the top of the Hierarchy. And a half-blood dark-lord slayer like him would have never made it anywhere near the top of their Hierarchy.

Harry spent all of his free time during the next four days with Hermione and Ron in Hagrid's darkened hut trying to reason with the large man. Tom seemed absolutely furious when Harry explained the whole situation on the first night and the diary's temper only grew worse as the days stretched by and Harry continued to plead with Hagrid.

_Cease being a brain-dead moronic idiot. It's almost as if you want to be expelled and sent back to live with your relatives. He is an adult and you, an eleven year old, have even used that overly sentimental side of yourself to warn him. Let the stupid oaf get caught._

After the four days he was finished with the entire situation and agreed with Tom, not the phrasing per-say, but what Tom had meant. Newly named Norbert was twice the size he had originally been and as much as Harry wanted to help, he was not prepared to risk being expelled over anything or anyone.

Hagrid looked sad when he explained this to the large man and Harry felt guiltier than first expected, however he held firm. He offered to help if Hagrid did decide to release Norbert, but apart from that he was not going to interfere. Over the next few days he barely saw the other Gryffindor pair as they continued to visit Hagrid. At meals Ron seemed to be giving him the silent treatment but Harry couldn't bring himself to care greatly. It stung, however the risks far outweighed Ron's opinion on his actions.

* * *

Exactly a week after Norbert had hatched Hermione found him meandering through the library straight after breakfast. Harry had mere moments beforehand found a book in the law section which he had been hunting down for the past few days and didn't even notice the bushy-haired girl until he almost ran into her.

Apparently Hagrid has agreed to let Norbert go, much to Harry's relief and evidently Hermione's as well. He quickly agreed to use Hedwig to mail Ron's elder brother Charlie. Thankfully Hermione had used Hedwig to send a few book orders in the past so as she left with the letter Harry could sit down and begin on the book.

He ended up missing Herbology as he read and reread the relevant chapters. He could blame the attendance fault on his headaches. The legal book was a dry dreary difficult text but he comprehended enough to understand the jist of things.

Harry dropped the law book down on the library table with a thud. He was in the main section of the library for once, so Madam Prince looked up from her desk to give him a glare, but did not comment. He had finally finished the section on magical guardians.

_It says the ministry should be my magical guardian. Therefore if there are signs that I am not getting proper care with my parental guardians it goes to the ministry for judgement. So why was Professor McGonagall so sure she couldn't take me out of their care?_

_Child, I think you will have to ask the Professor to answer that question herself._

* * *

Harry waited behind after Transfiguration, stomach queasy. It had taken him until Thursday morning to work up the courage to approach the Head of Gryffindor.

Professor McGonagall looked at him with a small smile "What can I help you with today Mr Potter? You spellwork today was as impressive as always."

He braced himself. Tom was right, he needed to know. "I was just wondering professor, why you said last year on my birthday that you would try to convince the Headmaster to remove me from the Dursley's legal guardianship? Surely it would be the ministry who would be in charge of my whereabouts, considering I have no assigned magical guardian?"

The professor's face transformed a few times through varying emotions before settling on regret.

"Mr Potter I assure you if it was that simple you would already have a different living arrangement for this summer. The Headmaster is your magical guardian, if he wasn't I would have removed you from the Dursleys care last year immediately. As he is your magical guardian I cannot without his consent."

She looked away and down at her papers on her desk seemingly unable to look him in the eye.

"Without taking it to court nobody can remove you without his consent. I am sure you can imagine the outcry if Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was taken to court." She looked back up at him with troubled eyes "That is why I said I would try to convince him."

Harry tried to summon words, but fell short. He nodded and turned away.

"Mr Potter." Harry turned back around but didn't meet the Professor's eyes, green eyes focused instead steadily on her desk and clasped hands.

"He does believe this is for the best. I do not know the reason, or even think I would agree with it. However I do think he has your best interests at heart. The headmaster is a wise and good man."

Harry couldn't help it. He blurted out "Just because someone is wise and good doesn't mean they are right." Harry turned and walked, fled, out of the Transfiguration classroom.

Outside the classroom he ran straight into Hermione and Ron who had obviously been waiting for him anxiously. Ron opened his mouth to speak to him for the first time since the silent treatment began and Harry was _not _equipped to deal with anything the red-head had to say. "Harr-"

"Can this wait?" Harry interrupted. He _needed_ time to himself.

Ron scowled "What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with m-" Harry started before cutting himself off, hearing the razor-sharp edge to his own voice. He took a deep breath. They didn't know. They had accidently come to talk to him at the worst time imaginable. He could hold onto his composure for five more minutes. Calm. Think of flying. "What is this about? I thought you weren't talking to me."

Ron shifted awkwardly under his gaze.

"Hedwig brought a reply from Charlie."

They showed him the letter and Harry comprehended their dilemma. How could they to possibly get to the tallest tower at midnight without getting caught? Harry made a quick decision.

"Look, I have an invisibility cloak." He ignored their gaping faces "It will fit two people and Norbert. I'll leave it on your bed tomorrow morning Ron. Put it back on my bed on Sunday morning when you are done. Okay?"

Ron nodded looking relieved. "You don't want to com-"

"No. Also, go see Madam Pomfrey about your hand _right now_ Ron, yes I can see the bandages. If you don't go now Hermione will probably have to make the trip to the Astronomy tower by herself on Saturday night. Good luck."

* * *

"Mi-"

The sky was dark when Minerva slammed the regal door shut with a flick of her wand and strode, absolutely furious, from the headmaster's office. She stormed silently for a good whole five corridors and two sets of stairs before releasing her temper.

"What a load of bullocks." She hissed out to the silent corridor making the nearby portraits eye her cautiously as the usually unflappable Deputy stormed by. Soon the anger dissipated and gave way to even more troublesome emotions.

Upon entering her own rooms she collapsed on her favourite armchair wearily. Red hot anger now completely replaced with confusion, concern and hurt. This was the sixth time they had had this argument this year. Did Albus really not heed her judgement at all after all these years? Or at the very least trust her with an explanation?

She didn't spare a single care for the greater good. She just wanted to know _why _he was_ adamant _the child should be stuck with those abominable excuses of human beings. Why was he doing this? Where was the good man Minerva had dedicatedly followed for most of her life?

She stood tiredly and found the firewhisky hidden behind 'Transfiguring Liquids'.

"I shall be telling this with a sigh, somewhere ages and ages hence." She quoted bitterly raising her glass to the empty room and unlit fireplace.

Minerva watched the sky turn light outside her window, and regretted much, all chosen all for something unrequited.

* * *

It was well past midnight when Harry had finished discussing his so-called magical guardianship with Tom. The rest of his dorm were sleeping peacefully, light snoring could be heard throughout the room and Harry couldn't believe what he was reading.

_I'm afraid so. In our world there is no separation of powers. The legislative, executive and judicial functions are all within the same body and hold power for law, governing and military._

_So basically, the Minister for Magic has a say in the courtroom? And in military actions?_

_Yes._

_If Albus Dumbledore is popular with the ministry-_

_Yes. _

_And Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot-_

_Yes._

Harry felt tears of frustration coming and quickly blinked his eyes. He would not cry. Tom's next few words seemed blurry at first as Harry struggled to control himself. Tom wrote slowly, much more carefully than his typical sharp style.

_My first owner and you are very alike. I believe that is why I tolerate you. He was raised at a muggle orphanage and he was sent back every year Harry. He begged to be allowed to stay at Hogwarts over summer but the Headmaster at the time always refused. At that time all orphans had the school as their magical guardian instead of the ministry. The Headmaster never understood how cruel muggles could be, or how dangerous. The bombs began falling on London during my owners third year._

Tom never talked about his past.

_My first owner was proud. The only time in his life he could ever remember pleading was before each summer. But it never worked. He left the orphanage by his own accord when he was fifteen. And do you know what this all reminded him?_

_What?_

_A lesson you both had already learnt by the time you reached the age of eleven. You have nobody to depend on but yourself. When he was twelve my first owner realised magic doesn't change that rule._

Harry's hand trembled as he wrote his shaky reply. _No magic doesn't change that rule. I forgot._ _Thank you Tom._

* * *

AN: Yay a faster update. I _should_ be studying but this chapter just… happened. Probably because I really want to write the two chapters that follow this one! So this chapter was supposed to diverge from cannon more than it did (same with the next two). Sadly I then realised that I created two large plot-holes by doing so and rewrote the chapter into what it is now. I could have gone along and worried about the plot-holes later but they were rather big and I didn't want to have to deal probably writing about 10k words to fix them later on. Also surprisingly there was a decent amount of plot this chapter (this story has a plot?!).

Also most grammar mistakes when someone is talking are purposeful. E.g. If Ron is saying things like "Me and Hermione" it is because I am a terrible person who enjoys the suffering of people who notice the small details like that. c;

Double checking something - are the conversations between Harry &amp; Tom still easy to understand? I have seen many a story where I have to read a conversation five times before understanding who is saying what and I **really** don't want to make everyone go through the same trouble with my story. I will endeavour to make it more obvious if anyone is having trouble.

I reached 300 followers today and am completely stumped by how much everyone is enjoying this. I truly thought the first 2/3 years in the story would be rather boring. I am really happy everyone seems to be liking it so much! Thanks for all the support. :D

~ Tal

(Edited chapter 18/11/14)


	12. Chapter 11

_Thank you Tom._

As the first year Gryffindor fell into a restless slumber Tom Marvelo Riddle was seething. The most irritable aspect of this mood being that, for once, the diary was furious at himself alone. Salazar, had he been hit by a stray confundus charm in the corridors? What had possessed him?

Possessed. If Tom had a corporal form he would have hissed in fury.

So, possession of the boy seemed to be out of grasp for now.

Tom had been talking to the child for three seasons and yet only gotten a miniscule amount of power from it. By all accounts he should have possessed Harry Potter and opened the Chamber of Secrets by now. However Harry Potter had poured his heart into the diary and Tom was still not anywhere near his predicted power levels, nor held firm control over the boy.

Nevertheless the child was weakening slowly, excruciatingly slowly, but the child was weakening.

More pressing issues were developing however. At first the diary had been using information with the sole purpose of wielding it as a weapon, a sharp blade with which manipulate the child into writing more. But now, as the evening had proven… Was he even using information completely for his own benefit?

The child had been in pain and Tom had written back honestly about his past, without a second thought, telling Harry something not another soul knew about.

The uttermost concerning part of all this was, at the time, it had seemed like the _logical action_.

It was only now, ten minutes later that the diary was realising all the other routes he could have taken. The most obvious being Tom could have lied. _Should_ have lied. He should have fabricated a gripping tale of lose and hardship. The child was unusually perceptive but Tom had mastered lying at the age of five, it would have slipped by like all the other manipulation, half-truths and straight out lies had.

Harry Potter was now a threat. A stupid moronic brat of a threat, but a concern all the same. Nobody should be able to pull his strings like a puppet, no matter what parallels could be drawn from their respective lives.

Tom had been far too careless, basking in the first interaction with a human being in decades. He had evaded Harry getting sorted into the house most likely to notice a dark artefact, but it was only a matter of time before someone grew suspicious of the Boy-Who-Lived's behaviour. The mudblood Granger seemed to be intelligent from what little Harry had spoken of her. Not only that, but at this rate somebody was going to kill the child before he had a chance to escape this diary. Or the exasperating brat was going to go get himself expelled or killed. By Morgana the child gave Tom headaches daily.

The diary was missing a vital piece of information, one piece likely right in front of him.

There was a reason he wasn't getting the power he needed quickly from Harry Potter. But what?

Tom had a sliver of an opportunity, a slim chance. He needed to get out of this infernal cage before-

The diary closed his imaginary eyes and pictured the insects from Wool's Orphanage screaming in agony. Tom waited patiently until his rage dimmed back down to a constant simmer in the background. Pondering his cage and his limited timeframe was always a poor idea, however it was yet another anxiety necessary to address.

For if the child was at all correct in his own conclusions, Tom was working with a _very_ brief window of time.

* * *

Bright green eyes opened on Friday morning displaying exhaustion, as was the norm these days, as they stared up at the ceiling. Around him the dormitory was waking up but Harry took showed no sign of even considering moving out of bed as he continued to stare up at the ceiling looking in clearheaded disbelief over his actions the day beforehand.

Why in Merlin's name had he _told_ Ron and Hermione he owned an invisibility cloak let alone said they could _borrow_ it?

He shouldn't have even told them it existed. Perhaps scarlet and gold did drain brain cells.

To be fair to himself, he hadn't been in the best state of mind. Mistakes could accounted for when you just discovered the Headmaster was your magical guardian.

But it had still been incredibly rash action of his, in shock or not. Excuses didn't change anything. Just another act he had undertaken lately which he would not to mention to Tom, Harry could berate himself enough for this stupidity without the diary rehashing it all.

Green eyes closed as a small sigh was pulled from his chest. At least Hagrid would be safe. And Hermione and Ron. Norbert would be released with ease using the cloak. And Malfoy would continue strutting the halls oblivious. Small mercies.

* * *

Harry was not comforted by the nervous looks on Ron and Hermione's faces at dinner on Saturday. He resolutely concentrated on his plate and stabbed a potato with a little more force than required. It wasn't his problem. He had left his cloak, despite substantial misgivings, on Ron's bed that morning. If they had any other problems they would approach him.

Not his problem. He had much larger issues. Seven weeks. Harry looked up at the head table from the corner of his eye, stomach churning as he watched the jovial Headmaster beam while discussing something, involving a lot of hand waving, with Professor Sprout. He had seven weeks until they were sent home. Harry took a deep breath, dropping his cutlery to flatten his hands on the soft tablecloth, preventing them from trembling as exhaustion and anxiety washed through him.

He couldn't rely on Professor McGonagall to fix his problems this summer. He stared at the Slytherin table across the hall with their silver and green edged robes.

Harry knew exactly which house he needed to think like.

* * *

If the small detail that his (extremely valuable important) cloak wasn't residing at the end of his bed on Sunday morning hadn't already clued Harry into the fact things had obviously not gone as planned during the night, then the lack of rubies in the hourglass would have done the trick.

Harry wasn't the only person to stop and stare at giant hourglass that recorded the Gryffindor house points on his way to find Ron in the Great Hall. Around him there was mutterings about how there had to have been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday?

Harry's stomach plummeted. First, he in an act of stupidity, offered the Gryffindor duo the cloak. Then secondly he was silly enough to have faith that everything would go to plan. He was twice the fool.

He quickened his pace over to where Ron and Hermione sat at the far end of the Gryffindor table in complete silence. Harry took a seat on the other side of the table.

"What happened?" He didn't beat around the bush. Not very tactful, but his invisibility cloak was missing.

Hermione didn't look up from her plate. Ron however, looked up and glared. Harry forced himself to not recoil at the sheer anger on Ron's face.

"Lost." The redhead spat out quite loudly. "Just like all the house points you made us lose."

He was vocal enough that although they were away from the rest of the table, nearby conversation halted.

"Excuse me?" Harry could hear his own disbelief.

Hermione spoke quietly down at her plate, still not lifting even her eyes. "We forgot the cloak at the top of the tower." Harry prayed it was still there. "Filch caught us on our way back to the common room, I believe Malfoy told him we would be out. Neville was out of the dorms trying to warn us about Malfoy. Fifty points each and detention."

"If you had come with us then this would-" Ron growled out, quietly.

Harry had enough. He had gone through jealously, silent treatment and now this? He had so much bigger problems than Ron wanting to play the blame game over this.

"-So if this is all my fault, why did Malfoy even know you were going to be out of the dorms?" He hissed quietly.

For a millisecond Hermione's eyes left her plate and she glanced over at Ron. So Harry had been right.

"You should have come with-"

"It is not _my_ fault you left _my_ cloak at the top of the tower! Of all the foolis-"

"This is your fault!" Ron shouted furiously. All the nearby heads turned, this time even those of the other tables, not even bothering to hide their interest in the proceedings anymore.

Harry stared at the redhead, then over at the silent Hermione, who seemed to be in shock over the loss of house points and a detention.

He was speechless. And tired. So this was having friends?

He felt the eyes of the nearby students on them and realised the consequences for leaving the table. Of walking away. It would be seen as an admission of guilt to Ron's statements.

Did he even bloody care?

Harry rose and left the table. Perhaps he did care. But not as much as his desperately want to not have to look into Ron's eyes for another moment. To see the judgemental unjust blame from his first ever friend in the wizarding world.

He had an invisible cloak to locate.

* * *

By Sunday afternoon a story started to spread throughout Gryffindor: Harry Potter, the famous Boy-Who-Lived, hero of Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Before this point Harry hadn't even realised he was admired or popular. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs wasted no time turning on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him.

Harry had half the mind to giggle hysterically in amusement over the materialistic stupidity of it all. House points, really? The other half of him, which he was trying to ignore, was hovering in a state of hurt disbelief. When he had left the Great Hall he had acknowledged that some cruel rumours would be spread, but he had never expected the utter dislike that poured off, what seemed to be, the entire student body.

The worst part was not the lack of a single person defending him, but how surprised and hurt he was by that fact nobody was defending him. Professor McGonagall had pulled him aside after Transfiguration on Monday to ask him in concern why he hadn't defended himself against the unjust rumours and slander. Harry hadn't possessed an answer except a quiet thought, one which would never pass his lips, _I didn't think I would need to defend myself_.

By the time Professor McGonagall had made him realise why he hadn't defended himself it was too late. Anything he said now would just fuel the flames. Make the insults more malicious. His last chance of rebuking Ron's accusation was left behind yesterday earlier in the Great Hall. Even if he was backed up by the Professor it was far too late to put out the fire with anything other than time. Just a mistake made, but lesson learnt for life. Never again would he take the blame Harry vowed.

Harry avoided thinking about Ronald Weasley. The redhead didn't study with Hermione and Harry anymore, preferring to keep the company of others when Hermione was around the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry spotted the first year duo still going through books in the library on other days. Harry idly wondered if they had realised it was the philosopher's stone yet.

Hermione had been quick to tell Harry she didn't blame him at all for the situation, and went as far as to apologise for Ron's words, however, she was still very withdrawn. She only showed true determination when she was in the library with Ron speed-reading through books, like whatever she was hoping to find would make the school forgive the duo for the lost points. In Hermione's defence, she seemed to be in a state of shock still. She had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. They still studied together but there was an edge to their conversations, even about homework. Harry honestly just wanted to grab her shoulders and shake the intelligent brown-haired girl. Shake her until she realised that house points didn't _matter_. Not in the scheme of things.

She was so caught up in a bubble of self-doubt her intelligent eyes didn't even seem to notice what troubles Ron's actions in the Great Hall had caused Harry, or that because Harry was the well-known one, he was actually taking a large amount of the blame for Ron and her actions. Harry couldn't bring himself to pile more troubles on her by letting her know.

It took a week for Harry's gloom to morph into something much more resembling anger and detachment.

* * *

_I have a question. _

_Hello to you as well. We really must work on greetings. I understand your upbringing was lacking, however this is a basic life skill. Firstly you greet the person, then you ask a polite question about their wellbeing, such as: "How was Quidditch practice, I do hope there were no cursed broomsticks?" and then you proceed make pleasant conversation for a few-_

_-Funny. But a serious question Tom._

_You always have questions Harry, what is holding you back from asking it this time?_

_It's sort of to do with Quidditch. It's a stupid question._

_There are many stupid questions out there I will not deny, but you have never asked me one. _

_Why has nobody questioned the rumours? The team wouldn't speak to me during practice, or even acknowledge my presence. If they had to speak about me, they called me "the Seeker". I couldn't find the energy to tell them they were wrong like I had been planning to._

_It is not a stupid question. Although, you do know perfectly well I cannot answer that query. I cannot read minds, despite my many talents._

_I'm sorry Tom, I know it's just I thought they care-Lovely now I sound like a stupid child. Can we forget this conversation?_

_Harry I hate to remind you, but you _are_ a child. On a more serious note, would you like to know something I have observed about you?_

_Of course I would._

_Lies by omission or not, keep you ignorant but content. The truth hurts._

_I think the last week has taught me that most things end up hurting._

_So be it. For months I wondered why you have been different in your attitude towards your peers, such as Ronald Weasley, since we left the muggle world. I realised why in winter. Are you sure you want to hear the rest? _

_Stop checking and please finish._

_You came into the magical world, Harry, expecting it to be better than your last hell because people can do magic. You forgot that humans will always be humans, not matter how many priceless gifts you give them. You came to Hogwarts hoping the children here would be different from the ones you experienced at school with Dudley. The children that turned a blind eye as Dudley and his friends bullied you. The children that picked you last in games because they didn't want to upset the status-quo. So when Ron and others displayed fickle qualities that reminded you of those children you ignored it. Because you wanted these children to be different you saw them differently, optimistically, not with the realistic way you viewed the cruelty in the muggle world._

…

_Harry? You have been dropping ink on the page for over ten minutes. I shouldn't have said-_

_It's okay. You are right. I was optimistic. I was thoughtless. As you said last week Tom, I have nobody to depend on but myself. Magic doesn't change anything. I think I truly understand that now. I won't forget it again._

_Har-_

_I'll be fine. I'm going flying by myself this time with no Gryffindor's glaring at me. I'll talk to you tomorrow Tom._

* * *

Harry watched, utterly captivated, as the sixth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws 'studied' together on a desk nearby, just around the corner of a bookshelf. 'Studying', Harry let out a small snort. More like bargaining homework for favours and debts.

However this was behaviour Harry had seen many a time and wasn't the reason for his fascination. No, it was for the masks of indifference. He had seen them before, but never placed close attention to the masterfully blank poker faces all of the Slytherins and most of the Ravenclaws wore as they bargained.

Harry was pretty good at façades himself. However, the problem was, the only ones he had ever utilised were cheerful masks - a bright smile to distract from his slightly-too-skinny frame or a cheerful grin to hide the pain the bruises left from Harry Hunting.

Not the sort of masks useful when people muttered insults at you every corridor you walked down. Harry had discovered over the past week that smiling through the insults just made people even more pissed off. They perceived it as you mocking them, telling them you were going to lose Gryffindor even more points. A rather obvious conclusion in hindsight, which he should have drawn earlier, before he was shoved into a wall by a sixth year Gryffindor on the way to Charms.

Harry knew he required a new set of masks.

* * *

Blaise Zabini was young, but he was not blind like many of the other first year Slytherins. With a mother like his, one could not get far without becoming very good at people-watching. Figuring out which parts of his mother was a lie for her latest husband and which parts were genuinely his mother was practically Blaise's entire childhood. Over the past few weeks he had turned this people watching habit onto a target the entire school was following with their judgemental eyes.

A particularly curious "Gryffindor" who Blaise had recently vowed, after watching closely, never to underestimate again.

For the first few days after the Lions lost one-hundred and fifty house points Slytherins of all ages, including himself, had been approaching Potter and congratulating him.

"Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"

"Should have told us you were actually seeker for Slytherin!"

"Many thanks Golden-Boy!"

But after complete silence from the small Gryffindor the elder Slytherins began to stop. By the end of the first week since the incident it was only the first and second-year Snakes who were taunting the scrawny Seeker with piercing green eyes. What were the elder Slytherins doing? They looked as though they were calculating. Analysing. Exactly how Blaise was reacting.

Because Harry Potter should have retorted. He should have been brash and loud. He should have fought back. He should have revealed his anger to the world the same way he revealed a dazzling smile and loud laughter after catching the snitch against Hufflepuff. He _should_ have done all of the above, but did none.

Spring moved onwards, the taunting from the younger of his housemates continued, the insults from the younger members other houses continued and Harry Potter did not break. He did not yell, in fact, he didn't speak at all. There was only one noticeable change in his behaviour. Blaise supposed not many would have spotted it, he had the bonus of watching Potter in classes.

At first after the incident, the pale face defined by a lightning scar and haunting green eyes had given away twitches of emotions from the rumours and insults. Displays of hurt and irritation. Even some rather odd displays of amusement (which had been rather baffling). However, by two weeks after the sudden loss of points, Harry Potter's face completely blank and it did not flicker an inch no matter what insults or taunts were spat at him. Of course Blaise acknowledged his relatively inexperienced eye would not pick up everything, and he didn't know the Lion well enough to spot the small tells, but the point was, Potter had developed a _very good _mask of indifference.

The fact the Boy-Who-Lived had a façade on par with any Slytherin Pureblood Heir his age was quite foundation shattering. One which he had appeared to have taught himself and mastered within the space of _a single fortnight_. Where was the reckless boy who chased after a Remembrall?

It was about this point Blaise Zabini remembered how long it took for the sorting hat to pick Potter's house at the beginning of the year. And then proceed to wonder how in Salazar's name he could have carelessly forgotten that the so-called Golden Boy had the second longest sorting out of his entire year group.

* * *

AN: I feel like I should put a memo in here that I edited the last chapter a tiny bit (if you saw it during the first few hours it was out). I put more of an emphasis on Harry's musings about the Slytherin hierarchy and opinion of the house. And rewrote the conversation with Tom at the end of the chapter. Nothing drastic, but changed all the same if you are interested.

Thank you to everyone who responded to my query about the Tom-Harry conversations last chapter. It was mentioned to me they weren't easy to comprehend so I am glad to hear it wasn't that situation for everyone!

Writing Tom right now is hard. I hope his POV scene wasn't too confusing. It's hard to write a genius who isn't as sane as he thinks he is. LOL it's hard to even describe currently why I find writing Tom hard at the moment. It should all be explained soon enough (hopefully). Also the reason Tom is in a hurry will also be explained (if you haven't already guessed why).

Anyway moving on! Harry has a lightbulb moment next chapter! Yay! Soon Tom will also have a lightbulb moment of his own. Sadly, Ron and Hermione will probably both have a serious lack of lightbulb moments.

Methinks I am going to have fun finishing the next few chapters.

~ Tal


	13. Chapter 12

"Dear dear. Losing your house all those points didn't teach you anything, did it Potter? Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry resolutely ignored the professor as he tunnelled his vision onto finishing the god damn potion. Hermione sitting next to him, flashed concerned looks as the Slytherins didn't bother to hide their snickering. It was three weeks after the Norbert incident but Snape wasn't at all inclined to stop bringing the incident up. Surprise surprise.

A minute later the tyrant was back.

"Abysmal stirring. You really are eager to lose even more points aren't you Potter? One hundred and fifty points wasn't enough for you? Ten points from Gryffindor."

Green eyes focused on stirring the potion but the anger was there, swirling inside him. He didn't care about the points, however Snape had a talent of worming his way under Harry's skin. Probably from years and years of practice, which the students had lacked in their own insults.

Harry's hand shook with exhaustion as he swirled the potion. He had gotten practically no sleep the night before due to a pounding migraine and had missed breakfast due to someone hiding his shoes, barely making it to Charms on time.

He didn't know if he could stand another insult without retorting, his mask of indifference was starting to break as his lips turned down. Hermione wasn't even flashing him concerned looks now, just staring at him in concern and… confusion? Why was she confused? Anyway, his façade obviously still needed a lot more work. Perhaps Tom would have some tips.

"Missing out on the attention, Potter?" Harry braced himself, closing his eyes. He could deal with this. He could. "Never fear, Boy-who-liv-"

**BOOM**

* * *

Harry helped the eyebrow-less limping Neville hobble out of the classroom and away from the furious Snape in a state of happy disbelief. He was free.

"How on earth did you manage to explode the potion?" Harry asked curiously as they made their way to the hospital wing. "Also is your leg alright?" Harry glanced down in concern. It looked fine.

To his utter shock Neville grinned at Harry, removing his arm from where it had been wrapped around Harry's shoulders to support himself. "I didn't put anything from the recipe in. I put dragon scale powder in. Oh and don't worry, my leg is fine actually, I just needed an excuse for you to come with me."

Harry just stood gaping at the grinning brown haired boy.

"Come on we have to get my eyebrows fixed. I don't want to miss Herbology." Neville turned to begin walking to the hospital wing.

Harry stood on the spot, still gaping as Neville began walking away, before dashing to catch up to him. "Wait, that was _on purpose_?"

"I couldn't stand seeing him blame you for all that crap, especially when I know you had nothing to do with the lost points. The students are bad enough." Neville explained meekly, nervously rubbing his hands together. "And to be honest, I wasn't sure if you were going to make it out of the lesson, you look exhausted Harry." Neville's features turned down in concern.

Harry just blinked disbelievingly. "You put _dragon scale _powder in the potion on _purpose_? To help get me out of potions?"

"Seemed fair considering all the blame you're getting for my actions." Neville shrugged self-consciously.

Harry let out a chuckle still slightly disbelieving. "Neville, you are absolutely amazing." He said wholeheartedly. Who would have thought? _Neville_ deceiving Snape to get him out of potions. Harry finally understood exactly why Neville was in Gryffindor.

Said boy grinned happily and struck up a conversation about their latest herbology project and Harry genuinely smiled for the first time in weeks.

* * *

Harry was still in a good mood that night thanks to Neville, and was finally making progress on his potions assignment in the library when Hermione joined him. Obviously Ron was busy with the other boys in their year and not interested in researching about the third floor with her. They greeted each other and quickly went back to studying. Harry noted she was fidgeting slightly, which usually meant she had a question she wanted to ask.

"What's bugging you Hermione?"

She jumped a bit a being caught out before looking up from her homework. "Am I really that obvious?" She queried, wincing.

Harry gave her a small smile. "Just a little."

"Why was Snape blaming you for the lost points?" Hermione blurted out. "I didn't realise it before today, but he has been doing it for weeks and I don't understand."

Harry blinked at her… Surely she had realised… Had she really been so unobservant in her own misery as to not notice the entire school blaming him?

"Mione everyone has been blaming me for it."

Hermione frowned in confusion. Harry wondered how much he had to elaborate. "Remember Ron in the great hall, the morning after you let Norbert go?"

Hermione was still frowning in utter confusion.

"Blaming me in front of the entire school? Then I didn't defend myself and walked out?" He prompted.

"They… They think you lost us the points?" Hermione looked confused.

"Yep."

"This whole time?"

"You have had your head stuck into the clouds for the last few weeks to be honest."

Hermione frowned, her brown eyes filled with concern, properly looking at him for the first time since the incident. "I… I didn't realise."

"You wouldn't have noticed a pink pig flying backwards the past few weeks Hermione." Harry said dryly.

She winced. _Good_, a vicious, hurt, part of him thought.

"I'm sorry Harry… I have been so distracted looking for… I'm really sorry Harry."

"It's fine."

The bushy haired girl didn't look convinced.

"Really Hermione, it is fine."

Neither of them had much experience when it came to friendship. They lapsed into an awkward silence smiling weakly at each other before going back to their homework.

It wasn't fine. But what else could he say?

The solution was, at least, simple. He just wouldn't get close enough to her, or anybody, for betrayal to hurt next time.

* * *

About a week before the exams were due to start and two weeks before the end of term, Harry's new resolution not to interfere at all in _anything_ that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking to the Come and Go room from the library one afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell's voice.

"No - no - not again, please…"

Harry immediately looked around the empty corridor before grasping through the far depths of his bag for his invisibility cloak, grateful to himself for his foresight. It sounded as though someone was threatening the Professor. Harry moved closer as soon as the cloak was on.

"All right. All right…" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight, heading down the corridor Harry had been planning to go down. He waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. So Quirrell was not acting alone, someone was forcing him to take the stone. The classroom was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry was halfway toward it before he remembered what he'd promised himself about not meddling. So what if Quirrell was after the stone for someone else? It wasn't Harry's problem what happened to the stone, the trap would probably work anyway.

It was only two days later that Harry realised that it was indeed, his problem.

* * *

Harry glanced out the greenhouse window to see an ordinary spring day. If the sky had been green and the grass blue Harry wouldn't be surprised, because occurring within the greenhouse was an event so utterly baffling and completely wrong that the sky being green may have made more sense.

The baffling, wrong, event was, Neville Longbottom was doing badly in Herbology.

After Harry had to prevent Neville overwatering their whistling shrubbery for the third time that morning Harry finally decided he needed to intervene, quite alarmed. He grabbed the plant from Neville and started repotting it.

"What in Godric's name is the matter? You're doing _badly_, in _herbology_. Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

Neville, looking haunted, started quietly telling him about a terrifying detention in the forbidden forest, as if he had been waiting for Harry to ask. Harry cursed himself as he nodded in encouragement, having completely forgotten the detention was last night.

Neville was telling Harry about Ron and him finding the unicorn, when Harry dropped the pot containing Neville and his whistling shrubbery, shattering the ceramic pot all over the greenhouse floor.

After an angry tirade from Professor Sprout and shrill angry whistling from the plant they were left alone again.

"Something was drinking its _blood_?" Harry whispered back, absolutely horrified, placing a new pot on their table.

Neville, gaunt and exhausted, nodded. "A centaur saved us from it."

"I'm glad you're all okay. What would do such a…" Harry trailed off.

"Exactly." Neville said quietly.

* * *

_What are the uses of unicorn blood?_

_Why on earth do you want to know something obscure like that Harry?_

Harry rubbed his forehead as his migraine returned.

_Another extra potions assignment because Snape hates me. I messed up the amount of unicorn horn powder in potions last Friday._

_From what I am aware the common uses include potions, wand making and advanced runic magic._

_What about by itself without anything else?_

_Stop attempting to dance, Harry. You are far too young for it to be anything but pitiful. _

_What happens if you drink unicorn blood?_

_Explanation child, now._

_Afterwards. Please Tom this is important._

_There are no benefits unless you have absolutely nothing to lose. It is the highest of crimes to drink the blood of a unicorn. The blood will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but you will have but a cursed life. You would have to be truly_

The diary stopped writing. Harry waited, but Tom didn't finish.

_Truly?_

_Sorry Harry, truly foolish to do such a thing. Now an explanation is in order._

_I'll tell you tonight, I have cla-_

_-Harry Jame-_

Harry shut the diary. Tom would be furious but Harry couldn't say he cared greatly.

It couldn't be anyone else.

Harry had thought back to the conversation he overheard two days previously and realised just what that conversation signified. Quirrell was not acting alone, yes. But the begging and sobbing from the abandoned classroom signified the professor was getting the stone for someone who terrified him.

Who would frighten a fully grown man, once a renown Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, to the point of tears? While simultaneously making the most powerful wizard at the turn of the century aim to trap him, going to the lengths of hiding the Philosopher's Stone amongst school children?

It would have to be a very powerful wizard. But drinking unicorn blood, one only barely clinging to life.

Perhaps a sort-of-but-not-really vanquished very powerful dark wizard who possessed a significant personal vendetta against the Boy-Who-Lived. One that would try knocking Harry off a broomstick.

The last puzzle piece fell into place, this one fitting everywhere Snape had not. Really, he should have put it all together weeks ago.

More importantly, this was an excellent time to _panic_.

* * *

AN: So it's been a while (understatement of the decade). The reasons have been explained on my profile. That's about it. I am very sorry it took this long to get back to, but yeah, real life. Sincere apologies.

This is short. But the best way to begin writing something again after a while is to just chuck the first part out there.

OH and I changed C10 a tinsy wincy bit. Not that anyone should notice considering how long it has been since anyone read that chapter. ^^;;


	14. Chapter 13

Unicorn blood, of _all_ things. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Repulsive, disgraceful and horrifying… Nevertheless undeniably _perfect_.

* * *

In the future, Harry would never quite remember how he managed to get through his exams aware a vengeance-seeking murderous Dark Lord was on the cusp of becoming immortal.

Every afternoon he would sneak to the third floor corridor under his invisibility cloak, press his ear upon the locked door and be comforted by the growls of Fluffy, alive and well. Funnily enough, being aware the whole situation was a trap didn't help in the slightest. The stakes were a bit too high.

Adding sleep deprivation and acute migraines, it really wasn't funny at all, actually.

Then, to make matters even better, half way through his last exam, History of Magic, his scar started hurting.

Harry dropped his quill as his migraine throbbed perfectly in time with a sting from his scar. In and out, in and out. He took big deep breaths through his nose. The exam wasn't going to be finished, Harry acknowledged, as he slumped forward resting his head on the cool table. It was still another two hours before he could take another one of the potions Madam Pomfrey had given him.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a hand was placed on his shoulder and he looked up into concerned brown eyes. Blinking he looked around to see the class all rolling up their parchment and packing their bags.

When had the exam finished? "I'm fine Neville."

Neville looked incredulous. "Sure Harry, sure."

Harry sighed. "Okay, perhaps not, but I will be."

To think he was _nearly_ eager for the term to be over. He gave a thumbs up to Hermione on his way out of the classroom with Neville. A fidgeting Ron avoided his eyes from beside her.

"I'm going to go ask Madam Pomfrey to take another look at my head. See you at dinner?"

Neville nodded, no questions asked. "I'm going to go help Professor Sprout pot some plants for her third years anyway, see you there."

Harry waited until Neville was around the corner before heading towards the third floor, pulling his invisibility cloak on while travelling a little known corridor the twins had shown him over the holidays.

Pressing his ear against the locked door, Fluffy's reassuring growls echoed out. Harry sighed in relief and slouched against the door as exhaustion hit him. Scratch the plans of practicing shields with Tom, a four o'clock nap sounded perfect.

_I'm just going to sleep. I'm so tired._

_I completely understand, sleep well Harry._

_Thanks let's hope I don't get murdered by a dark lord in my sleep._

_It would be rather depressing if you died in the last week of term._

_Tell me about it._

Harry hid the diary in his beside draws, yawned and rolled into bed fully dressed kicking his shoes onto the floor underneath the bed. Changing required far too much effort.

* * *

Harry was awoken by yet another throb of his scar and a toad croaking. Rubbing his head, stifling a yawn, green eyes blurrily looked out through the gap in his curtains to see a moonlit sky through the dorm window. Damn, he had missed dinner.

"Croak." Trevor croaked reproachfully in the background. Stupid judgemental toad.

Fumbling for his glasses, Harry pushed his crimson beds curtains aside and squinted in the moonlight at the dorm room clock. Oh he had definitely missed dinner. In fact, he had managed to miss curfew and midnight as well.

"Croooak."

Bright green eyes closed with a groan as the persisting migrate returned. Looked like it was one of those nights. Experience had proven over the last few weeks, that he probably wouldn't get back to sleep until the sky began to light anyway. It was best do something practical, or just talk for hours with Tom.

"Croak."

Rolling himself into a seated position and propped his pillow against the wall for a backrest Harry pulled his wand from his arm holster. "_Lumos Maxima_" Harry intoned softly, carefully creating a dim hovering light orb above his bed. Returning his wand to its holster he pushed the curtains aside further to reach for his bedside draw.

"Croak." Had the silencing charm on Trevor's tank worn off again?

Harry had located Tom, a quill and an ink pot before growing exasperated with the noise. Placing everything back on top of his draws in a heap, Harry dragged himself out of bed, and crept over to crouch beside Trevor's tank, only to frown in sleepy confusion.

It was empty. Harry got his wand out and willed his light orb to follow him. The cage under full light, was still empty.

"Croooak." Trevor's croak echoed through the room.

What on earth…

"Croak."

With freezing cold feet, socks were little protection from a stone floor, Harry stood upright in the dazed confusion only someone half-asleep could manage. He listened to the echoing noises from Trevor, staring at the empty tank illuminated by his hovering light.

"Croooak." Echoing… Oh.

Harry crept into the stairwell and sure enough, half way down the stairs was Trevor, making enough noise to wake the dead. The only reason Harry could imagine nobody had found the toad, was everyone was still exhausted from exams. Oh, and hadn't been asleep from four in the afternoon like Harry had.

Quickly grabbing the toad and making his way back up to the first year boy's dormitory, Harry placed Trevor in his wonderful charmed-silent tank next to Neville's bed, wondering how on earth the toad had gotten out in the first place. Shrugging to himself Harry figured he could talk to Neville in the morning. Harry stretched as he stood, and was about to head back to bed when he noticed something only someone half-asleep could have missed.

Neville curtains were open and the bed was made. Neville wasn't in bed.

Perhaps he had fallen asleep in the common room? It would explain why Trevor was on the stairs.

Harry didn't even bother trying to stifle this yawn as he reached under his bed for shoes. Better go wake Neville up before he got a cramped neck from sleeping the night away in one of those armchairs.

* * *

Harry would later remember the moment he properly woke up that eventful night, was upon finding Neville, lying stiff as a board, on the common room floor. Suddenly more alert than he had been in weeks Harry ran over to Neville's side.

"Neville?!"

Frantic brown eyes stared up at him but apart from waving hands and wiggling feet Neville didn't move. A full body-bind.

"Who put you- crap." Of course Neville couldn't respond. Harry took a deep breath and concentrated.

"_Finite Incantatem"_

Neville gasped, sat upright and started rambling. "Harry- thank Merlin, they went, I tried- but she put that spell on me and then- I tried to stop them Harry I did-"

"-What?" Harry grabbed Neville's flailing arms. "Neville who pranked you?"

"It wasn't a prank- Harry they went out again, they will lose us more points-"

"Points? What in Godric's name are you-"

Neville interrupted again. "-House points. Just like the astronomy tower all over again! I tried to fight them but Hermione put that spell on me and I couldn't move. Oh Merlin it was scary Harry- I thought I was going to-"

Hermione and Ron, had left after curfew. _Hermione Granger_, was out after curfew. Oh god they were going to the third floor… To protect the stone? But why tonight?

"-ean, I knew Hermione wouldn't try to kill me but it was so scary lying here, I, I didn't know if anyone would even _find_ me and it doesn't even matter now because I failed-"

Didn't matter why. Oh Christ, they would get caught in the traps set for Voldemort. What if they died in one of them? Harry had to tell someone- stop Hermione and Ron-

"-rry? Harry?" Harry became aware Neville was shaking his shoulders with trembling hands.

"This is a lot more serious than house points Neville." He managed to gasp out. "We need to see the headmaster. Now." Dumbledore had created all the traps, he would be able to save- Neville was staring at him with horrified gallon sized eyes.

"Dumbledore wasn't at dinner Harry. I think he is away."

Away. That's why they were out of bed… Because they knew Dumbledore was away and thought the stone was defenceless…

Exactly the same conclusion that Voldemort would pull.

So not only where Hermione and Ron on the third floor, Voldemort was probably there as well. Harry froze, and for the first time ever, said a word Dudley was particularly fond of.

"Fuck."

* * *

Harry rummaged through his trunk grasping his invisibility cloak while bringing his quill up to write frantically. He didn't have time to worry about other doubts, not when there was lives on the line. Tom was his best friend, he would help.

_Tom Im going to see Mcgonagall Voldemort is on the third floor I think Dumbledore lured him but Hermione and Ron are- _

_-What? You found out what is hidden on the third floo-_

_-the philosophers stone is on the third floor Im going to go tell the professor and get them out but I need to know anything that might let me get away if Voldemort does get the-_

* * *

Ow. Harry's head really really hurt.

Cloak, check. Diary, check. Wand, check. Half-formed plans, also known as Gryffindor ideas, check. Time to get to the third floor corridor, he had no time to lose.

Harry dashed back down to the stairs. Neville was still sitting in the common room where Harry had left him. He looked up when Harry came in.

"I'm coming with you."

Bad idea. "Neville-"

"You are going to the third floor aren't you? That's where Hermione and Ron are going. I'm coming with you." Neville glared, truly glared, at Harry, just _daring_ him to disagree as he scrambled to his feet.

"But…" Neville raised his hand, which was grasping a wand. Harry hadn't noticed him getting his wand out.

"-I'm coming. I have my wand out this time. You can't just body-bind me like Hermione did. There is one spell I have been practicing since Malfoy got me the other week, and is a shield charm."

Harry gaped. Who on earth _was_ Neville Longbottom? One minute he was stuttering, meek and the next he was demanding to go face a _Cerberus_ with you or blowing up potions on purpose. Harry wasn't the hidden Gryffindor, Neville was.

More important Harry didn't have any time for this. He _needed_ to get to the third floor.

"One rule of coming with me." Harry brought his cloak up into the dim light. "This is my invisibility cloak. You have to stay under it at all times."

"But-"

"Neville you may know a shield charm but I know two shield charms and a decent number of other charms and hexes, trust me. I really don't want to fight you, but I will. So stay under the cloak, okay?"

Neville looked grim, but nodded in acceptance. They both knew who always got spells right first in class, and it wasn't Hermione Granger who had body-bound him earlier in the night.

"We are just finding Hermione and Ron. Then we get the _hell_ out of there."

Neville just nodded again.

* * *

Hidden underneath the invisibility cloak with Neville, Harry began to fully acknowledge he didn't have a clue what he was doing, as he explained to the disbelieving other first year that _yes_ the headmaster had hidden the famous world renown _Philosopher's Stone _at a bloody _school _full of _children_.

He was walking towards a fully grown _Cerberus_ with a fellow first year, was somehow going to have to get past, said Cerberus, go through potentially deadly traps and try rescue two fellow first years while being avoiding a _Dark Lord_ bent on obtaining immortality. Also said murderous Dark Lord, just happened to have a very big grudge held against the Boy-Who-Lived.

But he had to save Hermione and Ron. It was his fault for not telling them it was a trap in the first place.

He was so doomed, Harry thought, slightly detached and gloomy, as they reached the third floor corridor to see Fluffy's door already ajar.

He should have made Neville stay behind but he had been so _desperate_ in his haste to get to the third floor, everything else had become secondary. "Neville, last chance to go-"

"-Shut up Harry."

Harry shut up as instructed, and gently pushed the heavy wooden door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them. So Voldemort hadn't killed the dog… but how had everyone gotten past it then?

There was something near its feet. A harp.

"Why is there a harp?" Neville whispered voicing Harry's bewilderment.

"I think it must be how someone got past."

"A _harp_?"

Harp… Music. Harry took a wild gamble and loudly hummed the first line of 'Mary had a little lamb'.

The beast's eyes began to droop. Harry continued. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased, it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Really?" Neville whispered disbelieving, voicing Harry's thoughts.

Harry stopped humming and started to reply "Agreed. I mean real-"

The dog growled and twitched.

Well then. Harry started humming again. Leaving Neville under the cloak he stepped carefully over the dog's legs. Bending over and pulling the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open easily, Harry stared down into pitch blackness.

He needed to use his wand. He looked back in the direction he knew Neville was hidden beneath the cloak and pointed at his own humming mouth.

A few seconds later, eerily, an empty spot next to the door began loudly humming 'Hot Cross Buns'.

Harry had to hold back a laugh. "I can't see down. I'm going to send a light down. _Lumos Maxima_"

He guided the light down through the trapdoor. It illuminated the room below.

"It's not much of a drop down, we should be fine. But the floor is covered in plants and the door is on the far side of the room. They look familiar, but this is your area Neville. Take the cloak off for now so you don't trip over the Cerberus."

He began humming 'Mary had a little lamb' so Neville could concentrate on walking over to join him. Neville took the cloak off, tiptoed over to him and peered down. A few seconds later he began grinning.

"Devil's Snare. It's not moving because of the light you put down, it dislikes light. Hates fire."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"It uses its creepers and tendrils to ensnare anyone who touches it, binding their arms and legs and eventually choking them." Neville grinned in delight. "Then it drags the dead body beneath." He gushed. "Isn't it brilliant?"

Brilliant, okay then Neville. Harry just stared at the delighted boy, still humming 'Mary had a little lamb'.

"Anyway, all we have to do is drop down, light a fire and we can get to the door. I bet you know a fire charm."

Harry gave him a thumbs-up sign with one hand and brought him wand up in the other.

"Well then," Neville said a tad shakily, "let's do this."

Harry waved his hand over the trapdoor in an 'all yours, jump down into the pit of strangling plants' motion.

* * *

A room of flying keys later, Harry was disbelievingly, wondering how anyone could fall for such an obvious trap. _First years_ had gotten past the first three 'defences' obviously set up by the various teachers. Such thoughts were soon forgotten as Neville and he crept into the next room. They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. The towering chessmen had no faces.

There was the sound of sobbing from the far side of the room and a hunched over figure in black robes.

"Hermione!" Neville yelled and Hermione's tear stained face looked up at them in surprise. That was when Harry saw Ron's head in her lap, his body lax. Neville immediately pulled off the invisibility cloak he had been wearing and began running over across the chess board. Bloody _Gryffindors. _

Harry saw the white pawn move aside and the white queen begin to move slowly forward across the board.

"Neville stop!" Harry yelled raising his wand the same instant Hermione cried "Neville wait!"

Neville noticed the Queen with a yelp and tried to stop, only to skid across the polished marble floor. Harry watched on in horror, still grasping his wand, as Neville fell and rolled onto the white side of the chessboard, almost in slow motion.

Harry didn't know _anything _that would even dent the stone – or any shields against physical-

The queen approached quickly and upon reaching Neville, raised her stone hand high above her head.

"_Accio Neville Longbottom" _Harry yelled desperately.

There was a yank around his navel and Harry was flung forward about his body length onto the cold hard floor but simultaneously Neville was pulled backwards the same distance. It was a horrible attempt at the spell-

THUD

-but thankfully it had been enough. The Queen's hand made a chilling noise as it encountered the polished marble floor where Neville's head had been a second previously.

Neville scrambled back off the board panting heavily.

Harry had only _began_ learning the summoning charm last _week_-to think what might have- Harry took a deep breath and focused on not trembling as he pushed himself to his feet. Neville was fine.

"Thanks Harry." Neville gasped out and practically collapsed onto the floor.

Harry smiled down at him shakily.

"You have to play them to get across the board. You have to act as one of the pieces, Ron got captured." Hermione called out, voice wobbling. "Please hurry - he's, he is unconscious."

Harry mentally sighed in relief, only unconscious.

The main problem now, was that Harry was mediocre at chess. He had never even played it until this year. Playing against Ron had made him realise he was bad and then Tom had… well, Tom had never taken more than ten moves on their drawn board before winning. He knew from watching Neville versed Ron that he wasn't any better than Harry.

And _Ron_ was lying collapsed on the far side of the room. Meaning this game was far above the level of chess Harry could dare to hope to win.

"Give me a minute Hermione. I need to think." Harry called.

"Hurry, please."

This was a trap. You were meant to be able to get past the first hurdles, based off the last few rooms. Thus he could _probably_ get across the board without playing chess, if he was clever.

It was all his fault, Harry was struck by guilt, they were here. If Harry had told Hermione and Ron the Philosopher's Stone was a trap months ago, then they wouldn't be here. If he hadn't let Neville come along, in a moment of distraction, he wouldn't have nearly been hit by the queen.

Harry reached for his invisibility cloak, still draped over the floor where Neville had tossed it.

"Stay here Neville. I'll be back with both of them in a minute then we can finally get out of here." Said boy nodded absentmindedly looked dazed and shaken from the close encounter with the Queen.

If this was going to work, it would work. If not then he would pay for it.

Harry ignored his trembling hand and pointed his wand towards his chest._ "Silentio Sui"_

He jumped in the air to experiment. It had been a while since Tom taught him the self-silencing charm. His shoes didn't make a sound when they hit the marble floor. Harry took a deep breath, pulled the cloak on, and began walking.

Harry held his breath the entire way cross the board. It was the tensest fifteen metres he had ever walked. His lungs burnt when he finally got off the far side of the board, away from the towering faceless white chess pieces.

Pulling the cloak off and cancelling the spell he dashed over to crouch by Hermione's side eyes assessing Ron's pale, but breathing, limp body. Her red rimmed eyes glistened in relief.

"Oh Harry I'm so stupid- I, I couldn-"

"It's fine Hermione, let's get back to Neville and get out of here right n-"

"-But what about the stone?"

Harry stared at the girl.

"You're going to go stop Snape, right?"

Harry opened his mouth and couldn't stop a choked, slightly hysterical, laugh that made it past his lips. No, he was not here to get himself killed. He was here to rescue- why did she expect him to do something so utterly stupid? "So your plan is for me to go fight the powerful experienced adult and get my…"

Harry rocked and fell forwards onto his hands and knees, hit by a wave of dizziness and then another. It felt like someone was hitting him over and over with flipendos. Ouch, stupid migraine. His scar throbbed as well, why couldn't everything just be quiet and painless? Harry thought, so very exhausted, and finally succumbed to the pain.

"-ry?" The floor seemed to be swaying beneath him and then suddenly the marble was rushing up to meet him.

* * *

They fought on a field like none the physical world had ever seen, backwards and forwards, up and down over immeasurable distances for undetermined objectives.

The opponent conceded.

It had _finally_ won, forcing the other into complete submission - then, out of nowhere, a third force appeared and slammed into it.

It screamed in fury, striking out, as it yet again, lost dominant control.

Then it stopped, recognising the third. Everything stopped. It understood.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to Hermione shaking his arm looking frantic, and shouts from Neville, still on the opposite side of the chess board. Harry tipped his head to the side and saw Ron, still lying unconscious. Right, Harry needed to get to the stone. He shrugged Hermione off and rolled off the floor onto his knee, closing his eyes for a moment to fight a wave of nausea from the throbbing of his head. Wait, not his head, his scar. Odd. Laying his palms flat against the lovely cool marble floor, Harry propelled himself to his feet.

He absentmindedly brushed of Hermione's concern and ignored the yelling from Neville. "Get Ron to the hospital wing. Use the brooms in the key room. Then send an owl to Dumbledore." He instructed calmly.

"Harry you can't-"

"Do you want Ron to die?" Harry asked and the bushy-haired girl flinched. Ron didn't seem to have anything but a concussion but this would get Hermione off his back.

"Harry what in Merlin's name-" Harry ignored Neville's yelling.

Harry grabbed his cloak and put it on, vanishing from sight. Neville's yells got louder but Harry continued to ignore him. He had to get to the stone. He jogged through the doorway and up the next passageway heart pounding loudly in his ears.

He reached another door and pushed it open gently.

A disgusting smell filled his nostrils, making him pull his robes up over his nose. Eyes watering, he saw, flat on the floor in front of him, a troll - even larger than the one he had tackled on Halloween - out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

Harry stepped carefully over one of its massive legs, so very grateful he didn't have to try knocking out this particular troll.

He gently pulled open the next door, hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. Harry crept over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind him in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward.

He were trapped, immediately identifying them as magical flames. An aguamenti, the only water spell he knew, was definitely not going to put those flames out. You learnt about magical fires in your _seventh _year.

Harry spotted a roll of paper lying next to the bottles, and upon opening it found something absolutely horrid. A logic puzzle. Three poisons, two wines, one potion forward, one backwards. Thankfully Harry didn't have to waste his time trying to solve it himself, he reached for his pocket and upon finding his diary quill and ink Harry used the table to messily copy the puzzle out to Tom.

_The smallest bottle will let you go through. The round one at the end will get you out._

_Cheers._

_Be careful Harry. If you can't get the stone just get out._

_Aren't I always? Okay._

There had been a 'trap' from every teacher now. The next room would be the last. Which more than likely meant, an all-powerful dark lord was in there. But Harry needed to get the stone. The small potion felt cold, like his body was consumed by ice. He cast a self-silencing charm, wrapped the cloak securely around his body, then he walked through the black flames and into the last chamber.

* * *

There was a lone figure in the last chamber, which had no other entrances or exits. It was Professor Quirrell. Harry internally sighed in relief. So Voldemort wasn't here himself, he had just sent Quirrell. Harry had a chance to get the stone.

Quirrell mercifully hadn't noticed him entering, busy pacing around the mirror placed in the centre of the circular room.

It wasn't just any mirror, if was the Mirror of Erised.

"Where is it?" Quirrell murmured to himself. There was no quivering treble anymore, replaced with a cold and sharp tone. "Stupid old bumbling fool." He stopped behind the mirror and drew his wand out.

Harry carefully walked down the steps towards the middle of the room, hardly daring to breathe and crossed so he was standing directly in front of the mirror.

He stared, once again, into the loathed mirror which had brought him so much pain months previously. Was Dumbledore really hiding the stone in it?

He saw himself and realised with a chill that the mirror seemed to be able to see through his cloak, before he could run as fast as his feet could carry him, out of the room, he noticed something about the mirror. The Harry in the mirror was _smiling_. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket - and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. What in Morgana's name? He had the stone.

Get out. Harry quickly turned and nearly walked straight into Quirrell.

Quickly backpedalling Harry nearly tripped over the cloak in his haste to get away. Thankfully Quirrell hadn't noticed anything, and merely turned to face the mirror again from the front, leaving Harry face-to-face with his hideous turban.

Ouch, Harry's scar began to throb, Harry bit his lip, cutting it as the pain grew sharper He blindly kept shuffling backwards towards the exit, only to freeze as a third voice filled the room.

"We are… not alone." It seemed to come from Quirrell, but the Professor's lips had not moved.

_Get out _every ounce of self-preservation Harry possessed, roared at him, and he hastily kept moving backwards, one hand clammy on his wand, the other over his burning forehead. He couldn't think straight though all the pain. Quirrell sharply looked away from the mirror, his narrow eyes scanning the room with his wand raised. "I cannot see them Master, they are invisible."

"Barricade… exit" the raspy voice commanded.

"Yes, yes of course Master." Said Quirrell conjuring metal barricades which he flung in the direction of the doorway. Harry ducked and the only thing that saved him from being hit was dodging skills, honed from having bludgers batted at him for hours.

Harry paled in horror as his only escape was cut off, thick metal bars obscuring the exit.

"They are… still here… Let me see the room…"

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"They are no threat… It is merely a pathetic child… I have strength enough… for this…"

Harry felt as though he was rooted to his spot near the only exit, barricaded by someone with far more skill than he possessed. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry thankfully had a silencing spell on to mask his horrified inhale. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen.

Harry's first articulated thought was; well this explained a lot, particularly the unicorn blood. Followed by his second thought of; Merlin that is gross. And third thought of; ouch my scar really _really_ hurts.

Finally his Slytherin instincts kicked in and registered fear, terror and a healthy urge to get the hell out of the room. Harry gave a small jump as his back hit something solid. Glancing behind him, he realised he was against the barricaded exit.

The face was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake, and it opened it's hideous mouth to speak. "Oh Mr. Potter… Why don't you… "

If Harry couldn't move from fear before, now he couldn't move from the pain as his forehead grew hotter and hotter. Why was he even here in the first place? He had just wanted to save Hermione and Ron. Voldemort probably wouldn't even have discovered how to get the stone before Dumbledore got back-

"Come out and greet me… It has been far too long."

-Why was he here?

The world slowed down. Why had he gone past the chess board?

His scar hurt. His head hurt. His pocket hurt, it felt hot. Why was his pocket hot? More importantly, why had he gone to the third floor? He had been planning on going to see the Professor…

Harry was tired. It was time to sleep now. His back slumped against the wall and he slipped away into darkness.

Distracted by the forth presence, there was nothing left to defend him this time.

* * *

A/N: I think this is my first sort-of-cliff-hanger. To be fair, it isn't even a bad one. Those come later. :D

This is also filled with typos, muddled grammar and never-ending sentences because rereading over five thousand words is exhausting when you just want to be DONE with a chapter. ^^;

The confusing scene is confusing. Souls do not have genders.

Thank you everyone for your lovely reviews!

Next chapter will not be out as promptly, this one was already half written when I completed the last one. I'm looking forward to finishing it however.


	15. Chapter 14

Quirinus Quirrell stared at the mirror in concern as his Master swept the room for their hidden intruder. What if it was Dumb-

"Oh Mr. Potter…" His Master called out.

There was only one magical Potter family. No… had the brat really been so rash? It was so preposterous, so _stupid_ he could hardly even believe an eleven year old Gryffindor would be so daring as to challenge his Master and himself.

"Why don't you… Come out and greet me… It has been far too long."

A few seconds later there was a soft thud.

"By the exit… Tie him up…" His Master commanded hoarsely.

Spinning back around from where he had been facing the mirror, Quirrell saw Harry Potter collapse against the barred doorway looking dazed and gaunt. Not questioning how his Master had managed such a feat, he quickly began conjuring ropes, they sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around the Golden-Boy.

He noticed that next to the frail boy lay a cloak. Ah, Potter had been creeping around under an invisibility cloak. There was no powerful hidden adversary, just an eleven year old boy.

Quirrell silently summoned the Potter's wand, only to realise after nothing came to him, that the brat hadn't even brought a wand. What a typical foolish Gryffindor child, running into danger without heed. To think he had been _worried_ about the invisible stranger in the room. Master, once again, had known best.

Well, they had received a good quality invisibility cloak at least which should aid their departure quite well. And killing the boy would please his Master so. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a stutter, much more genuine and pitiful than his own acted stutter.

"P-p-please let me g-go I-I didn't know-w." Tearful striking green eyes stared up at him.

What a pathetic child. To think, Quirrell had thought he held potential in class. Looking down in disgust as the tiny boy trembling, wide-eyed, tied up in ropes, he couldn't remember what in Morgana's name had been so promising about the Boy-Who-Lived.

He tsked mockingly down at the boy. "Now, now Potter, one must take responsibility for their own actions. I did not ask for you to be here, thus I see no reason to let you leave. You're too nosy to live anyway, scurrying around the school on Halloween as you did. It's just _asking_ for trouble." He shook his head in apparent despair.

It felt so _splendid_ to speak without the façade.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. You interrupted me." He turned back to the mirror leaving his Master observe the pathetic boy.

He listened in on the conversation between his Master and the boy, but focused on the mirror.

"B-but I don't u-unders-s-stand. I de-efeated y-y-ou."

"You… Defeat me? Foolish boy…"

"P-please let me go I-I won't t-tell anyone."

"You think I would care if they knew… That their Lord has returned…"

"I-I don't und-understand. W-w-why would y-you do this? C-come to Ho-hogwarts?"

Quirrell barely resisted shivering at the cold, cold laughter and focused firmly on the mirror.

"Pitiable child… Coming here without even knowing what was protected here… What a _brave _boy… just like his parents… I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight… but your mother needn't have died… she was trying to protect you… "

Potter didn't respond to that and apart from horse chuckling from his master occasionally, the room was silent.

He caught himself just as he started getting lost in the vision of presenting his Master with the stone, yet again. Only barely refraining from snarling in frustration, his Master would not approve, he murmured to the room "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

The boy had been awfully quiet for a few minutes and it struck Quirinus as odd. Spinning around he asserted that the boy was still trembling and pathetic as ever. Petrified into silence, probably why his Master had been laughing. He snorted in derision and went back to examining the mirror before cursing under his breath in irritation.

"Use the boy." Thankfully, his Master was supreme.

He spun around, vanished the ropes, and ordered the boy over. "Yes- Potter. Come here."

Potter walked toward him, nearly tripping twice. It was so pitiful Quirinus almost got a headache watching the stupid boy as he finally stumbled in front of the mirror.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

The boy was silent.

"I said, what do you see Potter?" He repeated sharply, making sure to hint violence.

The small frail Boy-Who-Lived turned around to face him. The boy _smiled_.

"I would be more concerned Professor, if I was you, by what you see." The boy stated, unnervingly tranquil.

Quirrell never got a chance to react.

* * *

The spirit screamed, a haunting ethereal sound, as it's anchor to the physical plane was lost to fire and it returned to its formless state. A wandering spirit, trapped between the planes of existence.

Precisely what the wretched being deserved, for falling so far.

He closed his eyes to enjoy the warmth from the fire, the texture of the wand in his palm and relished breathing air. When they opened, green eyes gleamed is sadistic delight as they watched the fire from the burning body began to spread to the rest of the room. Then somewhat disbelievingly, he looked down at the ruby red stone in his, temporally borrowed, hand.

Two problems, one stone.

Tom couldn't resist an incredulous chortle, and he would have continued laughing, if he had the time. Alas, the old coot would probably be here soon, and thanks to plenty of _fascinating_ information he had learnt this night, he had to alter his previous plans.

He quickly tightened his grasp on the wand, familiar, but not, as he turned it to the stone and began removing the many tracking charms placed upon the famous blood-red stone. Thankfully, as a magical object of such potency and raw magical power, no advanced tracking magic could be wrought into effect around the stone itself, and thus after some prodding, all the charms began sliding off the stone like oil on water. There was not even a single simple flesh-eating curse on the stone, thank Morgana for the stupidity of light wizards.

Tom hastened his spell casting, speed was of the utmost importance. He had many wheels to put into motion this night. And, of course, draining his precious Horcrux container too much was be _dreadful_.

* * *

Slowly struggling awake through waves of exhaustion, Harry forced himself to squint out of dry eyes to see a moonlit room lined with beds. Harry shakily pushed down his crisp white sheets and struggled to reach for his glasses. He was lying in one of the overnight beds in the hospital wing.

A convenient glass of water later, Harry frowned, why was it so quiet? It felt like something was missing.

Wait a minute. Bringing his arm up in shock, he pressed his palm against his forehead.

His head wasn't hurting. Or his scar. There was not even the persistent background ache that had plagued him for months. Harry could have cried in relief at the strange blissful peace within his mind.

_Boys don't cry_, Uncle Vernon's voice lectured darkly in the background.

Harry couldn't care less. He was in heaven. His mind was finally quiet.

He rolled over, finally content, and went straight back to sleep.

* * *

The second time Harry awoke, it was a lot more abruptly. Almost as if Harry's body had stamped it's metaphorical foot declaring 'I'm not exhausted anymore' and booted Harry's still _very_ confused mind, into the land of the living.

He was in the hospital wing, dawn by the look of the sky. _Why_ was he in the hospital wing?

Harry's mind was a mess as he grasped at slippery straws. His memory seemed to be one big blur. He had been sleeping… then Trevor had woken him. Neville, hit by a full body-bind. Third floor, Devil's Snare. Some sort of... bird room? Harry just remembered flapping. Then there had been Ron and Hermione. Ron was injured, Harry walked across the chessboard. And then… nothing.

Harry frowned. What happened after the chessboard? Was Ron alright? Had he gotten them all out safely?

Harry sat up and craned his next to glace around the other overnight beds, but he was alone. Ron, Hermione and Neville must have all gotten out safely, because the clearest memory had was vowing to himself to get the other lions out no matter what the cost, as he walked across the chessboard.

It hadn't escaped his notice, in his glance around the room, that there was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop. Huh. Well, he could ask about that later.

The blank spot in his memory, taunting him, was very concerning however.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict. Thus Harry was propped up with pillows on his bed, attempting to eat a very large bowl of cereal she had shoved upon him, as the first visitor arrived. Harry supposed that it was expected of the Headmaster to visit after someone had been asleep for four days.

Harry carefully bottled up his feelings on the Headmaster and stored them in the far depths of his mind. The Headmaster had power over his life. Harry couldn't afford to be on the wrong side of him.

"Headmaster." He greeted politely with a smile, as the aged man settled in a chair by his bed.

"Good Morning Harry." The Headmaster returned with a cheerful smile. Harry flinched slightly, hands gripping his cereal bowl and spoon a little more tightly, as the Headmaster used his first name. He quickly forced his hands to relax, hoping he hadn't given himself away. "I hope you are feeling better? Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"I'm very glad to hear they are all okay." Harry replied honestly, looking down at his cornflakes. It had been the first question out of his mouth to Madam Pomfrey earlier in the morning.

"They were never in much danger, unlike you Harry." Harry managed not to flinch at his name this time, but he placed his bowl of cereal down on the table filled with sweets, appetite lost.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. _Admirers._ Oh, the fickle nature of humans. Harry resisted the urge to sneer, but it was a close save.

"What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

Quirrell? Dungeons? He had… chased after Quirrell? After the stone?

He would never- "To be honest Headmaster, I don't quite know what happened down in the dungeons myself. In fact I don't remember meeting Professor Quirrell at all." He looked into the Headmaster's twinkling eyes dearly hoping Dumbledore believed his honestly.

"Ah yes, Poppy did say you mentioned a case of memory loss." The headmaster's brows creased fractionally in concern. "Perhaps you can tell me what you remember and then I will endeavour to fill you in on the rest."

"I remember Professor McGonagall's room, getting across the chessboard to check on Ron and then I'm afraid I can't remember anything afterwards Headmaster. I certainly don't remember Professor Quirrell." Harry shrugged, still looking into Dumbledore's eyes, hoping he would believe him. He didn't want to get in trouble.

Dumbledore smiled. "I believe you Harry. I have suspicion the trauma you suffered later on may have hidden the memory from you. It may come back with time."

Harry nodded, that actually made some sense.

"As for what happened. I believe as you rushed to save the stone-" _Save _the stone? In no right mind would Harry _ever_\- "-you encountered Mr Quirrell in the last room of protections." A dark crevice of Harry's mind snorted. _Protections. _Right. "Which may surprise you, from what I hear from your friends, I do believe you were under the impression Professor Snape was intent on stealing the stone."

Harry nodded again, averting his eyes to the table filled with candy. Dumbledore's blue eyes seemed to pierce through you. It was disconcerting, especially when you were giving half-truths. "So then it was Quirrell who tried to kill me? Not Snape?" Harry questioned in apparent surprise.

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry." Quite a bit of hypocrisy, considering the use of Harry's first name. "I believe I should clear up that misconception for you. You see, Professor Snape was trying to save you."

Wait, what? "Save me?" Harry asked blinking back across at the Headmaster, completely blindsided.

"Snape and your father detested each other at school." Well _that_ explained a lot. Rather petty of the Professor to take it out on Harry, nonetheless. "However one year Snape became in your father's debt."

_Snape_, in his father's debt? "What for?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"He saved his life."

"What?"

"Humans are funny, are they not? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt. I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace."

Huh. Harry looked down at his hands. So Snape had been trying to protect him all year? The Quidditch game. Snape was chanting, just as Ron and Hermione had promised. It finally made sense, Snape had been chanting a counter-curse.

Professor Snape had saved his life. Once again Harry had judged someone preemptively.

"I see you are deep in thought, but I will move back to our original topic. I cannot know exactly what occurred before I reached you that night, as most of the room was burnt beyond recognition when I made it there to find you unconscious." Harry looked up in surprise.

"Yes, the room was in fact, still smouldering, when I made it there. Thankfully I believe your accidental magic saved you, creating a rudimentary shield which protected you from the flames."

Accidental magic. It was important, those two words. Accidental magic. The magic which had protected him for years at the Dursleys. But why was it important… Harry felt like he was trying to catch a slippery fish.

Dumbledore continued. "I must admit I was hoping you may shed some light on what occurred before I arrived. As upon arriving in the burning room, the stone had vanished."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Quirrell stole the stone? Headmaster I have no ide-"

"-Never fear Harry, I am certainly not placing the blame with you. And no, Quirrell does not have the stone. Alas it was my own folly which lead to this. I did not protect the stone well enough." Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the Headmaster as he suddenly looked very old. Dumbledore had just been trying to do the right thing and capture a dangerous man.

"Who has the stone then?" Harry asked, but he had figured out the answer to his own query before he finished the question.

"There is the mystery, my boy, you see I found Quirrell's corpse lying a few feet away from your prone form."

A mystery. Right. Voldemort probably had the stone. Brilli-wait. Quirrell was _dead_? But then maybe Voldemort didn't have the stone? It also meant... Harry could feel the blood rushing from his face. "Headmaster. You, you don't think I might have… _killed_ him?" Harry's stomach turned as he asked absolutely horrified. Had he ended someone's life?

"My boy we cannot know for certain what happened in that room, however I do believe anything you did it must have been an act of self-defence. It would certainly explain the trauma you suffer currently."

"But how could I have killed him?" How could he just have… ended someone's life? Harry's nausea increased.

He would remember something like killing someone surely. Why did he go after the stone in the first place? He would never. Why couldn't he remember…? Harry froze as the situation entered an even worse light, as another option moved forward.

"I am sure it was not on purpose Harry, merely self-defence. I believe that Quirrell was weakened by other influences, sadly I cannot explain any more than thus. Just remember you are not a murderer, Harry. Anything you did was in complete self-defence." The Headmaster's voice was soothing.

Harry stared at his hands his mind slowly revolving to a halt.

"Sadly I can see you do not agree. I am sorry to put your mind at ill with this news."

How had he been so thoughtless? So willing to _trust_.

"Forgive me Headmaster for the change in topic, but did you recover anything I took to the third floor with me?"

"Now you mention it I am glad to return it to you. Your father happened to leave it in my possession I am glad you have found use of it." His invisibility cloak was placed further down his bed, just within Harry's vision.

Just the cloak. Harry's nausea turned into a full blown urge to vomit.

"I'm sure you have already noticed your wand-"

"-Forgive me Headmaster. Would you be able to get Madam Pomfrey for me? I think I need to vomit."

Dumbledore sounded deeply concerned "I will go summon Poppy now, best wishes Harry. Do not let this destroy you my boy. Self-defence is not something to be ashamed of."

"Thank you Headmaster." Harry didn't look up as the man left the room.

After vomiting lots of cornflakes, Harry realised why the words 'accidental magic' had rung a bell. A small silver lining to a very dark cloud.

* * *

AN: The next chapter should answer many more questions, but I bet a lot of you have figured out a bit of it already. I always found it odd that Harry never really considered the fact he had _killed_ Quirrell in canon.

**So** **much** talking with Dumbledore. Jeez that conversation JUST WOULDN'T END. The story just _wouldn't let me finish it_. Okay, rant over. But man, I got so sick of that conversation. I wanted to put so much more in this chapter, but now I'm just tired out from that one (rather intense) conversation.

I changed the summary of this fic a bit. Particularly from eventual slash to pre-slash/gen. This is due to my decision to split this story up into two fics. This story will not contain slash, at all. Harry is too young and to be honest I felt uncomfortable having a slash label on my story while writing about an eleven year old. It just seemed... yeah I don't know. *waves hands about in air expressively*

Pre-slash is the label I have added so any noromo/gen readers do not pick this up without warning for the second instalment. If it wasn't for that demographic who do mind, I would have put this part up as gen to be honest, because that is basically what it is.

(Very sorry to disappoint anyone out there who thought the slash was coming sooner rather than later!)

In other news I hit 400 favourites and 600 follows with the last chapter. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'm a bit terrified with pressure, not going to lie, but happy all the same. :)

Double that thanks to the awesome reveiwers!


	16. Chapter 15

_Some dark magical artefacts, although dark in nature, are dormant or simply only retaliate to threats. However, indications suggesting immediate malevolence in a powerful dark artefact include, but are not limited to, large magic depletion, lapses in memory…_ intoned 'Identifying Dark Artefacts' from the depths of his memory.

No, Harry denied, cutting off the droning Hermione-like voice.

It was all still so blurry. He hadn't been planning on taking Tom, it was just the paranoid fear making him fill in blanks with things that didn't happen.

"Mister Potter?"

Just because the diary was likely, well proven to be, a dark object, didn't mean Tom was bad. A few books in the restricted section didn't mean anything. Tom would be waiting, probably furious, in Harry's bedside table wondering why he was being ignored.

"_Mister Potter_, you have some guests. Miss Granger, Mister Weasley and Mister Longbottom. Shall I let them in?"

Harry blinked up at the tall firm matron, taking a moment to drag himself out of troublesome thoughts. "Oh, yes please. Sorry Madam Pomfrey." He grinned sheepishly as she shook her head.

"If you are not feeling up to muster, I can send them away again until tomorrow." She reminded him gently.

Harry put on his most winning smile, it would be best to get this out of the way. "Thanks but I should be fine."

Madam Pomfrey didn't argue the matter, probably because he had already seen Hagrid and Professor McGonagall earlier in the day, the former bawling apologetically, the latter had given him a furious lecture. Harry rubbed his forehead with a palm, basking in the lack of migraine or throbbing from the scar. He had been awake and aware in the hospital wing for over a day now, and was very grateful he hadn't been allowed any visitors yesterday after Dumbledore. There was too much chaos inside his head to even consider how to deal with all that had occurred.

Harry still wasn't ready to face the 'Tom situation' head-on and because of all had come to light, he had missed a vital opportunity to discuss summer holiday arrangements with the Headmaster the day before.

Well, Harry had already berated all his idiocy yesterday enough. It was time to put everything else into action, beginning with the forgiveness display.

"Harry!" there was a blur of bushy brown hair and he was pulled into a suffocating hug.

"It's good to see you too Hermione." He looked over her hair at the smiling Neville and foot-shuffling Ron.

"Thanks for coming to see me guys. I'm pretty envious to see you already got out of here Ron. I've only been awake for a few hours and I'm already sick of this place." Harry groaned theatrically.

Ron broke into a wide grin, palpable relief shining through. "I certainly don't envy you, mate."

He just made a mistake, people make mistakes. Harry firmly told himself. It was time to mend a bridge, never restore it perhaps, but a little patching up wouldn't go astray. And, well, Harry did take a sliver of responsibility for nearly getting Ron and Hermione killed.

Only a bit, though. Running after an adult powerful wizard was a death wish. Bloody Gryffindors.

Yet, he had fundamentally done the same thing. He remembered his intent to save Hermione and Ron, utterly Gryffindor in itself, but he had for some mindboggling reason gone after the stone to top it all off.

_Loss of judgement, reasoning or previous opinions. _'Identifying Dark Artefacts' recited cheerfully.

His memory really was good at the most inconvenient of times, Harry despondently decided.

"Madam Pomfrey said you were ill after breakfast yesterday and haven't eaten all day." Hermione piped up in concern as she eventually released him, only to scan him from head to toe in concern.

"Madam Pomfrey exaggerates. Don't worry, you wouldn't eat much either after trying it." Harry deflected smoothly.

"Agreed. Trust me Hermione, it's awful compared to our usual meals." Ron nodded along. "How long are you stuck in here?"

"Until tomorrow morning."

Ron groaned sympathetically. "At least you are out for the end of term feast. Although it doesn't really matter, Slytherin has won the house cup already."

"He lost his memory! It is very serious." Hermione huffed at the freckled redhead. "It is good practice to monitor someone after something like that."

"But the hospital wing is so boring. Honestly, the only decent thing here is the get-well soon presents. And I didn't get _nearly_ as many sweets or cards as Harry."

Ron never wore jealously well.

Harry brightly smiled at the redhead "Go ahead, I don't think could eat a tenth of all this sugar."

Ron brightened. "Thanks Harry."

Hermione huffed again. The pair engaging into a typical disagreement over the benefits of the hospital wing.

He raised his eyebrows at the silent Neville over their heads.

Neville shrugged still with the same half-smile. It seemed more strained the longer Harry observed him.

They both got pulled into the fierce debate and Neville's silence was pushed aside until the sun set later in the evening and dinner time approached.

* * *

"You'll be late for dinner!" Hermione protested.

"I'm not really hungry." Neville demurely stated, but stood his ground. "I'll stay here and make sure Harry eats."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oi."

Hermione was already nodding along with the proposition. "Good idea, we'll save you some food."

"Oi." Harry complained. "I'm right here."

"Yeah yeah, now let's go. I still haven't made up for my days of hospital food. Have fun Harry." Ron teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Later guys."

There was a moment of silence after the loud duo walked out.

"How are you really?"

Harry blinked. "I'm-"

"If you say 'I'm Fine' I'm going to look disbelieving and ask again."

Harry opened his mouth, and promptly closed it again. "You can be really straightforward sometimes. You should try this with Malfoy."

Neville shrugged with a small grin "I'm sadly only straightforward with friends, as Hermione would tell you, after I tried to stop them in the common room. And you shouldn't be _fine_, you lost your memory."

How much could he tell Neville? He needed to tell at least some of the truth to dissuade any further suspicion. Should he say he didn't remember meeting Quirrell, or maybe… "I don't remember anything after sneaking across the chessboard towards Hermione and Ron." Harry admitted quietly wringing his hands, relieved to say it out loud to someone other than the headmaster.

"I… I don't _think_ it was trauma."

Harry stared at the pale boy, feeling the last of the golden boy mask shatter under the weight of dismay. Quickly replacing it with indifference, he wasn't fast enough. Green eyes couldn't be sure how much fellow Gryffindor had seen, but the other boy looked away from his piercing scrutiny.

Neville keep his eyes focused down upon his robes. "You reached Hermione, you talked to her and we were all going to leave. Then Hermione mentioned saving the stone… And then you acted like you weren't going to go after it and…" The Gryffindor trailed off again.

Nausea swelled from the pit of his stomach to the top of his throat. "And then?"

"You stumbled, and fell over, but when you pushed yourself up you ran off after the stone."

There was an extensive, expressive silence.

"That doesn't sound like trauma." Harry stated, calmly. A meaningfully detached calm, where he pointedly did not think about anything in particular.

Neville shook his head still looking down at his lap, playing with his robes.

"I didn't tell Professor Dumbledore. I think that's why everyone thinks it was trauma. Hermione was too distraught over Ron to even notice."

Harry was blindsided for the second time in two days.

"Wait, what? Why didn't you tell Dumbledore?"

"When we got out of the third floor Professor Dumbledore… He didn't even stop, before we could even say anything he said he was going after you. He told us to get Ron to the hospital wing and just… went in… It was weird."

Harry frowned in confusion, trying to piece together what Neville was trying to tell him. "What do you mean Neville? Of course he was going to come after the stone and me. "

"But… But we didn't tell him you were in there."

_Oh_. Harry swallowed. "Neville, are you trying to say the headmaster _knew_ I was in there?"

_What_\- yelled some distant crevice of his mind. Calm and collected, Harry told himself dully, begin by easing Neville's worry, process later.

"Well, at least I think he did, maybe? It was weird. And all I could think, all I could think as we waited in the hospital wing not knowing if you were a-alive or or-was h-_how_ did he know? Why wasn't he here earlier if he knew? I mean it's probably nothing right? I was just confused, I mean, he probably knows we are all friends."

Harry cut off Neville nervous stumbling. "Thanks for letting me know. Seriously, Neville you're a good friend."

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore is wise so maybe-"

"-I'm sure he just guessed that I would go after the stone. The headmaster is very wise, as you said." Harry reassured, smiling at the worried brown eyes.

It all wasn't worth the risk, if there was one thing in this muddled world Harry was still sure of, it was that Albus Dumbledore was not a man he could afford to cross.

Neville nodded, relieved at the reassurance. Harry felt a small shard of guilt, but really Neville was an open book.

"Yes, that's it." His fellow Gryffindor agreed revitalizing. "Sorry I'm just being silly."

Green eyes became motionless as his mind ground to a halt. Oh god, _Neville was an open book._ The headmaster surely would have seen through the innocent first year. Harry somehow, through years of practice, summoned a cheerful countenance. "It has been a very _very_ long week."

Neville gave a relieved, slightly hysterical laugh. "To think, last week I was so worried about exams."

"Me too… Neville, please don't mention to anyone the chess room? I think it's probably for the best that I have trauma memory loss. Don't you think? There are enough wild stories running around." Harry hesitantly asked.

"I-I won't if you don't want me too. But are you sure?" Neville's rung his hands fretfully but his eyes didn't waiver, holding a certain sort of honestly only Gryffindors could gather.

"Sure. I'll sort it out. You should go get dinner anyway, mine will be here soon, and I can practically hear your stomach grumbling from here."

Neville hovered around like a mother-hen until he visibly saw Harry gulp down a few spoonful's of soup.

As soon as he was alone, Harry grabbed the bowl and snuck over to the bathrooms, washing it down the sink. As he crawled back onto the bed he rolled onto his side, curling arms around knees and tucked himself into a ball, an old childhood habit. Harry wished for nothing but to be able write to Tom, for his best friend to take him away from all this anxiety and confusion.

But Tom wasn't here. Harry gritted his teeth, closing his eyes and forced himself to look over one problem at a time.

Neville. Even if his meek friend hadn't straight up confessed to Dumbledore, it was very likely he had acted off. Which meant that Dumbledore could suspect that it wasn't trauma affecting Harry. Making the fact he was the one to _tell_ Harry it was trauma, all the more concerning. Almost as if, those twinkling blue eyes suspected a wholly unique reason for the occurrence himself.

Which was, as much as Harry loathed to admit, a good thing. Well, memory blank aside. If the headmaster thought he knew what had influenced Harry's memory, it meant Harry's own suspicions were wrong. It meant Harry's deepest fear was not coming to pass. That not heeding the risks presented to him in the restricted section of the library _hadn't_ been one of the most senseless choices he had made to date.

_Sentient dark artefacts in particular, have been known for their capability- _he wasn't thinking about that, Harry scolded himself firmly. 'Trauma' aside, how had the headmaster known he was on the third floor?

Harry was relieved to find this made sense somewhat, in a speculative way, after he thought it through.

The entire third floor had been a trap. That had been confirmed the moment Neville and he made it past the devil's snare. He had already theorized that there was probably wards all over the third floor which would have been activated when Quirrell entered. And then the rest of the first years, thus Dumbledore being alerted of his presence and his fellow Gryffindors.

In which case however, Dumbledore could have confronted Quirrell straight away… So why hadn't the old man intervened earlier?

The real trap was in the final room... Causing the old wizard to patiently wait until the Defence professor to make it past all the 'defences' into the final room with the stone?

However in doing so he had let Harry and his fellow first years walk into a perilous situation. Merlin, Ron and Neville could have easily both have been killed by the giant chess pieces. Harry could, _should_ have been killed by Quirrell.

How much did the headmaster care about his students? First designing the trap in a school, then his nimbus two thousand in the Quidditch match and now this? Almost as if… They were all inconsequential compared to enticing Voldemort out of the shadows.

Harry wrapped his blankets more securely around his torso, feeling chilled. That was a theory for another time.

Leading to the most unbelievable proposal yet, which had kept him up most of the previous night. The headmaster had implied the _real_ philosopher's stone was in fact, missing now. Which meant Dumbledore had been self-confident enough in his trap to place the _actual bloody stone_ on the third floor. Then to top it all off, the-Boy-Who-Lived was left _alive_ in a burning room, heavily hinting it was not Voldemort who had stolen the stone.

He had been wrong in assuming Quirrell was working for Voldemort? But who else would have gone after the stone, and actually _succeeded_? Dumbledore was renowned as the wizard of the century, he had good reason to be self-assured in his power.

Really it was just amusing to have a baffling third-party who came in and quite likely snatched the stone from the _wizard of the century_, the defence professor and likely a not-so banished _Dark Lord_. Harry found he didn't really care about the third-party, past the humour of the situation.

They had left him alive, so it undoubtedly wasn't his problem.

That notion didn't settle as confidently as it should. Memory loss meant there was only one possible conceivable situation in which the third-party did matter. A lot.

What if _he_ isn't there? Black thoughts whispered at him.

Tom would be there. He had to be.

What if the diary _isn't_ there?

The diary was in the drawer, like it should be. Tom would help him uncover what had happened that night.

Green eyes opened to the dimly lit hospital wing and at fixated on his bedside drawers. His invisibility clock was in the second draw, he could _easily_ go make sure Tom was in his stuff. Right now. Distinguish the truth from possibilities.

Tom had once asked him if he would preferred ignorance to truth and Harry had resolutely told him _no_.

Rethinking that former belief, Harry rolled over and closed his eyes again, scrunching them tightly shut. He could to go find the diary in his things tomorrow when he got released from the hospital wing.

* * *

The morning was left him wide awake and fidgeting, despite a long night spent with his overactive imagination. The clock was stating about nice thirty in the morning when he was released from the hospital wing. A thoughtful gesture on Madam Pomfrey's behalf to let him avoid the crowds, everyone would be in class.

Harry dragged his feet the entire way to the Gryffindor common rooms.

* * *

He had lied.

He had used him.

He was gone.

Pacing the lake shore wasn't helping, but at least he was finally, truly alone.

Fury and anger were the easiest emotions to deal with. Not just at Tom, but at himself. The Boy-Who-Lived, a poor little weak muggle-raised child with no friends. He was such an easy target there was no wonder T- no wonder _Riddle_ had wrapped him around his little finger.

Harry kicked the ground. He was so weak it was repulsive.

Harry trusted him. And suddenly the anger was gone crumbling back under the weight of pain. He bit his hand to muffle the first wrenched out sob. Vision blurrily Harry buckled down against some windblown rocks.

Alone in the silence of the edge of the lake, the tears came quickly.

And the golden-boy hated himself a little more for every pathetic tear, every worthless sob.

He stayed huddled behind the rocks until the sun began to set.

Harry had _trusted_ him.

* * *

"Forth and finally to Mr. Harry Potter." announced Dumbledore out over the Great Hall bathed in Slytherin colours.

_Don't you dare_ Harry tried to keep his temper bound. His lips sat fixed rigidly into a smile.

The great hall was deadly quiet, the Slytherin table especially so. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

He_ seethed_ and brought his lips up into a wider smile.

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry lost sight of the room as he was mobbed by a crowd of people.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place.

Green eyes dully observed the Slytherin table from between the handshakes, hugs and pats on his back. He saw the frustration, the anger from having the house cup stolen right out from under them, in their expressions.

Now the Slytherins had even more of a pertinent reason to despise him. Lovely. How _convenient_.

Harry didn't dare look at the head table, he couldn't stomach seeing those scheming blue eyes of his Magical Guardian and stared listlessly at his plate as food appeared in front of him, no intention of eating.

Hermione was blabbering away at his side, about eating healthily, he ignored her. It wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway when they all got back to London. Really, he was just preparing his stomach for a summer holidays with the Dursleys.

He could feel Neville's gaze burning from across the table.

He found he didn't care about that either, he didn't care about much really.

* * *

_Sentient dark artefacts in particular, have been known for their capability to possess magical beings of most races. Known exceptions of this are the Fae-_

"Identifying Dark Artefacts: Volume I' thumped as he slammed the tome closed, placing it on the ground.

Breathing slowly out through his nose, the silent of the restricted section aided his temper slightly.

He had read those words almost two months ago, for the first time. It had taken a while, after the catastrophe of the Christmas holidays, to figure out the correct silencing charm for the books and to dare attempt to get into the restricted section again.

And he had read those words once, and chosen a path of inaction.

He had decided that although he didn't know what Tom was, he didn't seem to be affecting Harry adversely. And he also happened to be Harry's best friend. So Harry had decided to keep quiet and bide his time. Even with the suspicious migraines and exhaustion, _clear signs_ of a dark object arose, he had convinced himself it wouldn't get worse, that it was just stress. Because Tom was above all Harry's best friend.

The person who had dragged him from the Dursleys, understood him, who helped him, the only person Harry had ever relied on or trusted.

_Surely_ Tom Riddle was sincere.

He was a fool, a thoughtless ignorant affection-starved _moron_. Harry hated himself just a little bit more.

Judging by the books, the fact he was alive was a mere stroke of luck. If Riddle hadn't gotten the stone, he would have probably drained Harry's life force.

Best to make use of his survival, in particular the constant _fury_ at himself, needed an outlet.

He slipped an arm from underneath the invisibility cloak to reach for the next book on the pile. It was midnight, and the train 'home' left at midday, not leaving much time to prepare for the summer holidays.

* * *

**A/N:** It's been a while. Sorry. ._.;

The 1 year anniversary was 3 days ago, which finally kicked me into action. So… Happy anniversary? ;-;

Harry spends most of this chapter in denial and the end of it focusing on the easy emotion, anger. It was a lot of nothing (the first half), but it all needed to happen. Promise.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews, I'll get around to responding soon.


	17. Chapter 16

"To think I only got the best grades in just under half our classes. Honestly I'm thrilled with the challenge, but I expected the best grades in at least four of our classes not only three. And you." A finger was waved at in his direction, from his peripheral vision "Have you even _looked_ at your grades?"

Green eyes turned away from the countryside to blink at the frazzled Gryffindor seated across from him.

"Umm, no?" The was screeching noises from beside him, so he looked back at the chess game he was supposed to be playing with Ron, moving a random pawn merely to appease his annoyed chess pieces.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Here I was thinking boys are supposed to be competitive."

"Come on Hermione, does it even matter? You got the best overall grade in the year." Ron gleefully defended his best mate, obviously quite amused that Hermione hadn't topped every class.

Harry glanced across at Neville. The round faced boy grinned, rolling his eyes.

"But I want to make sure it was Harry who beat me in Transfiguration. Our own head of house teaches the subject! What if it was a random Ravenclaw? What if it was someone like _Boot_?" Hermione seemed very perturbed by the concept.

"Hey now, Boot's not _that_ bad." Harry defended, just to see Hermione scrunch up her nose.

Ron chortled and even Neville gave a chuckle but Hermione looked to be on the edge of getting genuinely upset so Harry decided it was best to placate her. He reached up into the luggage compartment and withdrew his unopened envelope, tossing it diagonally across to the surprised girl.

"Here then." Hermione arched a single eyebrow at him but looked mollified.

There was silence in the compartment for a little while as Hermione read his results. He winced as Ron took his remaining knight. "You are worse than usual mate." The redhead commented.

Harry just groaned.

"You were first in Transfiguration and Defence, third in Charms, forth in Potions and ninth in Herbology. But then your Astronomy and History of Magic scores are just average. " Hermione piped up, sounding pleased with him until she reached the words 'just average'.

Considering the migraines he had suffered through exam week those grades were unexpectedly positive, yet surprisingly Harry found himself disgruntled he was third in Charms. He knew he was the best at the practical work, his theoretical must have been lacklustre. He had never been one to act competitive before, always dumbing himself down to make sure his grades were worse than Dudley's in primary school. Yet unexpectedly, he found himself wanting to improve next year.

Aiming for the top grade in Charms sounded like a good challenge. Oh, _and_ Potions. The look on Snape's face would be priceless.

"Nice job." congratulated Neville.

Harry flashed him a smile.

"It bothers me how you say average like it's a _bad_ thing 'Mione." Ron complained.

"Agreed." Neville grinned. "We can't all be as smart as you, Hermione."

Hermione turned a little pink, and changed the subject. "What are you all planning to do over the holidays?"

Ron perked up. "Right. I've been meaning to talk to you guys about the holidays actually. You should all in the second half of the break. I'll send owls."

Harry carefully controlled himself, to make sure he wouldn't seem too eager. How perfect, away from the Dursleys while still playing goody two-shoes for the headmaster. "I'd really like that Ron."

"I probably won't be able to. I know Gran wants to travel for most of the holidays. We should meet up to grab school supplies before term though."

A mention of Neville's grandmother reminded him. "You should get a new wand over the holidays Neville." Harry said. "Each wand has its own wizard. Having your father's wand is just putting you behind."

"You've been using your father wand? I've read that using the wrong wand when you are first learning magic can severely hold back your magical growth." Hermione said her part in concern, and Harry looked gratefully at her.

Neville seemed conflicted. "I'll try, but I'm not sure what Gran will think."

"Tell her its holding back your magic." The Longbottom's were a pureblood line. And from what little To- what little _Riddle_ had told him about Purebloods, it would be seen as a shocking crime to interrupt a child's magical growth.

He looked back out the window, hands clenched together tightly in his lap. Why couldn't he get through a single conversation without thinking about _him_?

The dark ruggedly wilderness changed to charming English countryside as Harry devised.

* * *

He bid the other Gryffindor first year's farewell as soon as they reached platform nine and three-quarters. He could only act 'normal' for brief stretches, before reminders of Riddle got the best of him. It would be a trying break. People jostled him as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some fellow students called out.

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

Green eyes flashed behind glasses, but he at least his face held indifference. How many of them had turned their back on him after he 'lost' all the Gryffindor house points? It was a rhetorical question, Harry bet all of them had.

"Ready, are you?"

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still moustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

Fear which would only last as long as they didn't know he couldn't do magic outside of Hogwarts. He would be walking on thin ice this summer.

* * *

A few hours later he watched as all spellbooks, wandholster, robes, cauldron, and nimbus two thousand were placed in the cupboard under the stairs, seconds after he had walked into four Privet Drive. Harry balled his fists, hunched his shoulders and used every taunt thrown at him over his time at Hogwarts, every prank or cruel remark, all fuelled into one mask of disinterest as Uncle Vernon chucked his life into the cupboard like it was _junk_.

He considered mentioning his homework, but it wasn't worth the risk. Hopefully Ron held through on his promise of having him over for part of the holidays and he could do it then.

"And the wand, boy."

Harry grasped the wand in his pocket, loathing himself for the minuscule trembles than racked his frame. If he didn't give up the wand without a fight they may realise that it was how he channelled all his magic. That it was his only true defence.

This summer and two more, at most. Then he would never see this place or his 'family' ever again.

"Freak, the wand. Now."

Harry handed it over and it was tossed into the cupboard, he momentarily shut his eyes as he heard it clatter to the floor, but somehow retained his blank face. Never again, would he hand over his wand and feel so powerless, the eleven year old vowed to himself. It was essential his plans this summer came to fruition. There was no point thinking further forward for now.

Uncle Vernon looked mighty pleased with his actions as he locked the cupboard. Then, his dear uncle produced a lock and moments later padlocked Hedwig inside her cage looking even more delighted.

And yet, it was not just his uncle that Harry hated in that instant, but Albus Dumbledore equally as much.

Slowly dragging his sneakers up the stairs to the second bedroom covered in dust, he released Hedwig's cage to the table, taking no notice of her squawk in outrage. In sullen interest he approached the dirty body-length mirror.

Gangly arms producing from baggy Dudley clothes, a pale face, green eyes, a lightning bolt scar and messy dark hair. All he was, really, when you took his wand away.

Pathetic.

His body looked defeated, the way he was unconsciously hunching forward slightly in a throwaway effort to defend himself, adopted as soon as his wand had clattered to the ground within the cupboard. It was like he had never left, never discovered magic, never become more than a tiny undernourished ten year old with a wish.

He stepped closer, until all he could see was his face. He analysed it critically, and was a tad appeased to find it clear of emotions. Green eyes _burned_ back out of the mirror, and he offered himself a smile, because although the rest of him was useless and weak, his eyes guarded a promise, to himself alone.

There was betrayal, hurt, sadness, loss and enough anger to fill a lake in regards to Tom Riddle, however the diary, or whatever actually Tom was, had taught the Boy-Who-Lived a few invaluable lessons.

* * *

Harry relished pulling out the last weed in the side garden bed on Tuesday morning, four days since the holidays started. Squeezing his eyes almost completely shut, he tilted his head up and considered the sun to gage the time. Probably about midday, even better than expected.

He washed the dirt off under the garden tap before heading inside for a glass of water and to steal a piece of fruit. Thankfully Dudley had his eyes glued to the TV screen and Aunt Petunia was nowhere in sight, making the chance of more chores outside extremely unlikely.

The most enjoyable part of this holidays had been that apart from cooking and outside tasks, the Dursleys had been completely content to leave him alone, as long as he stayed out of sight. More than two meals a day would be pleasant, but a bit too idealistic.

He scrawled a note letting his aunt know he would be back in time for dinner, relishing the use of a pen. Honestly, wizards could be so backwards sometimes. Green eyes considered the pen for a moment, it would do. He trudged down to the abandoned football field, thankfully nobody was crazy enough to be out in the heat at this time of day apart from him.

Sitting down beside a shady oak tree to the side of the fields Harry brought out the pen and placed it a few feet directly in front of his crossed legs.

Who knew a pen could seem formidable.

But this was his only option. The only loophole he could conceive to get around the traces on his wand and four Privet drive. The best part was, he could always say it was accidental magic if he used it in defence. Still an infraction of the laws, but he wouldn't be kicked out of Hogwarts.

Which he almost certainly would be, if he grabbed his wand and chucked an _Everte Statum_ at Vernon Dursley.

Not that he could grab his wand, even if he wanted to, Harry retold himself. But, well, that was exactly why he was doing this. So he wouldn't _ever_ be this weak again.

The book had been dreadfully vague about how to get started. In fact, it had seemed to enjoy illustrating how unlikely success was, more than anything else. It had clearly stated only five percent of the adult magical population ever learnt any form of wandless magic. You were required to have a large magical core, which Riddle had told him he owned and you had to possess outstanding control over your magic. Harry didn't even know what that precisely _meant, _truth be told.

_Those who experience a large amount of accidental magic as child have a better likelihood to possess a higher aptitude for wandless magic. _Harry reminded himself optimistically with a quote.

From what Harry had gathered, before he had to leave the restricted section at 3 o'clock when his eyes began to droop, wandless magic was purely about want and will in the end, but you needed to begin by comparing it to a spell and wand magic. Pick a well-practiced straightforward easy spell with a simple concept, visualise and will.

Well, it was worth a try.

Harry focused on the pen, feeling absolutely ridiculous as he pointed his right arm down at it remembering the rush he felt performing magic, the power flowing through his hand into his wand, the levitation of the troll's club.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_." He swished and flicked his hand.

The pen, predictably, didn't move.

* * *

Harry made it back to the oak tree the next day.

He had turned hair blue, vanished glass and apparated without a wand before. Surely he could levitate a pen.

Right?

He took a deep breath and gathered all his will, concentrated completely on the pencil and spoke clearly, waving his hand with a swish and a flick.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The pen looked entirely unimpressed by his display and did not move a millimetre.

This was going to take a while, he acknowledged despondently.

* * *

"_Wingardium Leviosa_."

Harry intoned, on Friday afternoon, exactly a week and four days since he started his attempts.

The pen lay unmoved by his spectacle.

Harry sighed and got up, it was nearly time to cook dinner. If he hurried 'home' he would have time to respond to Hermione's most recent mail.

Mercifully, Hermione used the muggle post so Harry had time to write out proper replies, whereas when Neville or Ron sent owls, he had to quickly write out a response and send the birds back out the window before the Dursleys noticed stray owls in his room.

But life was life, and the ordeal that was enlightening wizards to the muggle postal system was a horrifying trial that muggle-raised students only tried once, just once, before promptly assenting it was better for everyone involved if the subject was never raised again.

Hermione's mistake had been Ron, Harry's had been Neville. They had bonded over it later.

"_I explained it slowly for the fifth time, then he nodded and said 'Okay, so I write the person's name, house name and then put numbers in the little boxes. Sounds easy enough.'" Hermione waved her hands expressively. "House _name- _not number, house _name_. Wizarding houses only have _names_."_

"_Postal stamps." Harry commiserated, "Don't even get me _started_ on Neville's questions about stamps." _

There were some things the wizarding world may never be ready for.

* * *

"You know," Harry struck up a conversation on Tuesday, three weeks after starting his practice "this all would be a lot easier if we could work out an agreement. How about we meet halfway? Let's say- you hover, and I promise not to melt you in a fireplace and let you live out your days as a writing utensil in peace?"

The pen did not seem impressed with his bargaining skills. He had managed to get it to twitch occasionally, but it was always random.

Harry flopped down onto his back, staring up at the swaying branches of the oak tree. After all he had gone through, all the accidental magic he had performed, it was all useless. Three weeks and he wasn't getting anywhere.

How… How had he used accidental magic before?

When he was desperate. When he was afraid.

Oh, duh. Harry pushed his hands against the dirt, propelling himself upright and looked down at the pen. Harry hunting, days without food in the cupboard, trolls, hanging from his shuddering nimbus two thousand with one hand, Neville lying before the giant stone queen chess piece its massive hand raised to strike down.

"Wingardium Leviosa." He swished and flicked his hand.

A shiver, a warmth down his arm.

It was miniscule, almost non-existent, but the pen rolled over.

* * *

Tap.

He groaned and rolled over.

Tap tap.

Tap tap tap tap.

Bloody owls.

He shoved his covers off and stumbled over to his window letting Errol into the room, praying Hedwig would stay silent for once. Uncle Vernon had already gotten mad at him three times in the last week over Hedwig's racket. He frowned, noting there was three letters and a package attached to the poor old owl's leg.

Quickly releasing the Errol of his burden Harry turned his attention to the letters making out Hermione, Ron and Neville's handwriting.

An hour later he was munching on a chocolate frog, part of a joint birthday present which couldn't be more needed. He had lost quite a bit of weight since returning to his relatives.

But, he admitted to himself, he was torn. Overjoyed by his first ever birthday present and wishes. But… How long would they be his friends? Were they even his friends? Ron in particular, he had mainly just 'forgiven' because it was easier and fit the golden-boy. But now he was planning to go stay with Ron... If the last year had taught him anything between Ronald Weasley and Tom Riddle, friends were flighty and unreliable. Who knew, in a year they could all be long gone, just like the diary.

Harry was caught by melancholy. _Tom_.

The room became blurry as he hastily blinked away the water in his eyes. No, he _was not_ going to reflect about Riddle again, the new twelve year old grew furious with himself. So feeble, he didn't need friends.

He didn't need _anyone_.

And yet, he delicately placed his first ever birthday letters in a hole under the floorboards.

* * *

"_Wingardium Leviosa_."

The pen jumped and rolled sideways, but didn't make any attempt to, you know, _levitate_.

Hell it had been _four weeks_.

Harry stared at the pen. Projecting his emotions had helped a little, but there seemed to be this barrier that didn't let him pour out enough magic to hover the pen. He didn't even need the emotions anymore, he could bring out a sliver of magic without memories of desperation of fear.

Perhaps... It wasn't strong enough. It was quite possible he didn't have enough power, didn't have a large enough magical core. However, it could also be the fact the hardest part of wandless magic was doing it the first time, because your channels weren't used to luring magic out without a conductor. He... needed a stronger emotion he was feeling in this instant to bring out his magic. Not just memories.

What was he feeling now? What did he feel strongly enough about to bring out his magic? He was hungry, irritated and tired, not anything prevailing.

Then, he gave a chortle to the empty sports field. Merlin he was an idiot. He had forgotten the emotion he always had these days. The anger usually tightly repressed surged forth as he visualized the pen rising and lifted his hand and he could _feel_ the magic race down his arm.

"Wingardium…" The boy-who-lived trailed off, stared uncomprehending at the bare ground. Where had the pen gone?

Harry scrambled to his feet looking around the abandoned edge of the football fields. It was nowhere to be seen. Harry groaned and collapsed back into on the soccer pitch, had he in his temper vanished the pen?

Harry lay himself down and looked up at the cloudy sky. Damn he actually started to _like _that pe- that wasn't a bug dropping towards him.

The pen hit him on the forehead.

His lips stretched into their first genuine grin for a long while. Well, it was a start.

* * *

With a clatter the trunk was chucked onto the pavement and without a word the waddling man turned around. Hedwig hooted from the cage in reproach and Harry saw the silver gleam of the lock still in place on her cage. He could see her dirty feathers, no longer snowy white, unable to be properly cleaned. She had been trapped for over a month in the unbearable contraption.

"Uncle Vernon may I have the key for the padlock?" Harry strained himself, asking politely.

His uncle turned around, his grin malicious. "Should have kept the ruddy bird quiet. The freaks you are staying with can deal with it." The wide man turned around and walked back towards the door of number four. Aunt Petunia and Dudley peering through the living room window smiling in delight at the sight of him on the curb.

Before rational thought kicked in his wand was gripped in his hand under his shirt. Anger burning through his veins as he watched his uncle's retreating back.

He turned away, releasing the wand and sucking air in through his nostrils. Damn, he really needed to get his temper in order.

Hedwig hooted again and he knelt down. "Don't worry. Soon girl. I'm so sorry this won't ever happen again I promise."

"Harry is that you?"

He looked up to see a short plump faced woman approaching him with orange hair, kindly looking down at him hunched next to Hedwig's cage.

"Hello love, I'm Molly Weasley. Ron said I should be picking you up. Judging by your trunk he was actually right about what time and date– a miracle, he has been despondent for the last few days. The Chudley Cannons lost you see- not a rare occurrence, but he gets down about these things all the same."

Harry blinked, trying to process the warm smile, the first kind expression he had seen in over a month.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh dear it's just Molly. Now, we must go a few streets away to apparate ourselves-"

* * *

Living with the Weasleys was weird.

The most normal aspect was the Burrow itself, a house that ignored the concept of gravity itself and remained standing. The most foreign aspect was, after spending a month at the Dursleys, spending time with people that seemed to _like_ him. Molly Weasley always pilling second helpings on his plate, Arthur Weasley asking him about muggle inventions, playing Quidditch with Fred and George, studying with Percy in a rush to finish all his homework and spending his days with Ron. Ginny… Well he couldn't understand if Ginny disliked him or just thought he was a hero. Ginny was a mystery- puzzling and quiet.

Harry acknowledged his jealously of Ron, growing up with his family and found it very hilarious that Ron had ever been jealous of the famous Harry Potter.

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the Wednesday following his arrival. They made their way via floo to Diagon alley and meet Hermione, her parents, Neville and his Grandmother at Gringotts. Neville proudly displayed his new wand and Hermione instantly told him about a fantastic book he must read. As they headed for Flourish and Blotts they discovered they were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was clarified by a large banner stretched across the upper windows proclaiming the Gilderoy Lockhart would be doing a signing.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. The four second years squeezed past the line, each grabbing a copy of 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2' and Harry left the other three as they made their way to the line and he delved further into the bookshop away from the signing.

He grabbed a few more postal service leaflets off a shelf. He had taken a few from Hermione before the holidays started, placed in his trunk as he planned on ordering books over the holidays. Of course Uncle Vernon had discovered them as soon as he walked into the house and burnt in front of him the next day. Not that it they had been useful anyway, considering Hedwig had been locked in her cage.

Crossing to the Potions section, he swiftly collected '101 quick tips to help your brewing' before browsing the shelves. He was determined to get a better grade in potions this year, just to spite Snape. Charms should be fairly easy to improve on without any books in particular – Professor Flitwick didn't resent his existence and would happily answer any questions he had. After spending some time in the Potions section he located a shelf of Duelling books, picking up a few beginner texts.

There was a young male shop assistant nearby in the transfiguration zone, probably hiding away from the signing.

"Excuse me."

The weary looking attendant looked down at him. "Yes?"

"I was just wondering if you have any books on wandless magic."

The teenager didn't hide his disbelieving look. "Wandless magic? You sure kid?"

Harry suppressed a scowl, wondering if his scar was showing, how different that response may be.

"Quite sure."

The older teenager shrugged with a 'whatever' expression and led him to a corner with two books before wandering off.

He picked up both of them, bracing against the weight of seven books and meandered back to the signing area, trying to ignore all the enticing books along the way. Seven extracurricular books was enough for now, he still needed to purchase a frankly ridiculous number of books by Gilderoy Lockhart.

The scene that greeted him was unforeseen to say the least as he watched Arthur Weasley and what he could only assume to be Draco Malfoy's father standoff in the line, as he walked up to hang in the background. The elder Malfoy was very familiar. They truly had a habit of running into eachother in Flourish and Blotts.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," said a deeply red Arthur Weasley.

Harry slid up next to Neville and Hermione, unnoticed amongst the spectacle.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying past Augusta Longbottom to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower."

Harry noted that Mr. Weasley, the kind, naïve but kind man that had welcomed Harry under his roof and away from the Dursleys for the past week was about to jump the other man. The _one time_ he was practically invisible and he was going to intervene. _Morgana_, he was such a Gryffindor.

"I had wondered since last year Mr. Malfoy, what you did in bookstores when you were not crouched behind bookshelves." He commented innocently, blinking. What seemed like the entire store turned to gaze at the Boy-Who-Lived including the Malfoys. He ignored the public's stares with practiced ease after a year at Hogwarts and as bright green eyes met the tall daunting man's grey eyes, he stopped the childlike blinking, meeting the gaze head on.

Thankfully, according to a worn out old magical hat he was also a Slytherin.

They surveyed each other for a moment as the entire room watched on in confusion. Harry purposely waited for the blond man to open his mouth before beginning.

"Oh sorry, my mistake. Who knows, what you might do with your time when you aren't… Well, accidently misplacing books." Harry moved his lips up and crinkled his face into an guileless smile. "You should be careful what you leave around Mr. Malfoy, I couldn't find you last year to return it."

Harry took great pleasure in seeing a flash of… was that distress make its way across the previously haughty fact? Bingo. So he had been correct. How, fascinating. The Gryffindor barely managed to not curl his lip up into a smirk as Mr. Malfoy subtly stumbled into speechlessness.

"What are you-" Draco Malfoy cut in, confusion evident as he stared at his father.

"Have we met before Mr. Potter? I'm sure I would have recalled meeting the _savior_ of the wizarding world." Mr. Malfoy saved himself admirably, enquiring in apparent boredom. Then, Harry remembered a small detail he knew about Malfoy from overhearing Slytherin gossip.

"Golly, how forgetful of you." He manipulated his features into shock, eyes wide. "Oh dear, aren't you a Lord? How concerning, a head of a great house having a lapse in their memory." He shook his head made a display of looking around to the room, concern evident, delighting in all the eyes and ears taking in their conversation.

Godric, he hated the attention, but it could not have been more beneficial.

"Terrible." Arthur Weasley cut in grinning foolishly.

There was a cold glint in grey eyes and this was no game anymore. However as Lord Malfoy turned from cold to dangerous and Harry felt unfamiliar magic crawl over his skin all he felt was a rush of adrenaline. He hadn't had this much fun in months. Before Lord Malfoy could speak however, he was cut off for a second time in as many minutes.

"Now now, what is the fuss over here? Wait, it can't be- Harry Potter?" A man in forget-me-not blue robes practically shouted, and suddenly he was yanked forward through the crowd losing sight of the Malfoys, Weasleys and everyone else as he was dragged to the front of the room.

The room instantly turned around and burst into applause. The Boy-Who-Lived and Gilderoy Lockhart smiled for the Daily Prophet's camera as calculating green eyes traced the Malfoys most dignified exit from Flourish and Blotts. He was a brash idiot, but what was life without simple pleasures?

* * *

Grasping his backpack Harry left Ron to his own last minute packing for their journey back to Hogwarts. Ducking out the back door he walked a decent distance away from The Burrow before sitting. Fishing around blindly in his bag a hand found cold metal and grasped it, dropping it in his lap.

Harry concentrated on the locked padlock. It was a small inanimate object, yet he despised it. This piece of metal had been locking Hedwig in her cage for over a month when he had been stuck at the Dursleys.

"_Alohomora_"

It clicked open.

Harry instantly felt exhausted as the warmth left his arms, as he always did, but the gratification was worth it.

It would take time and yet, little moments like this reminded him his long term plans were possible. He could actually maybe, just maybe, pull this all off. He probably shouldn't have let his temper get the best of him at the bookshop a week before, but hopefully it wouldn't come back to bite him. Only Mr. Malfoy and he really knew what had transpired, he had quickly convinced the Weasleys and everyone else it was simply standing up for Mr. Weasley and taunting the rude man- a very Gryffindor action, nothing out of place.

Harry had decided he quite enjoyed being underestimated.

* * *

**A/N:** Yay second longest chapter yet! A bit of determination, a bit of anger, and some fun. I should warn that this year is going to go past even faster than first year. I'm sure some of you will be pleased to hear that, others, not so. Check out the poll on my profile (you have to be on the desktop site).

Also there have been many questions about when Tom returns and Harry's response. I can't spoil it, but I'm _really_ looking forward to it. It will be something new, something I haven't seen done before, so hopefully by that token - original. I've already written it. But it's a while off, so I'm sorry for leaving you a bit baited. :P

Thank you for all the lovely reviews, nothing more motivating! Shout out to Fanfictionlurker1 for always inspiring me with kind words and thought-provoking questions. :)


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